


All Shook Up

by teaandchess



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - 1950s, Alternate Universe - 1960s, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Falling In Love, First Time, Gen, MCBB17, Multi, Physical Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Prostitution, Sexual Content, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-14
Updated: 2017-10-14
Packaged: 2019-01-17 08:12:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 27
Words: 108,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12361389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teaandchess/pseuds/teaandchess
Summary: In the spring of 1955, war veteran Castiel Shurley takes a temporary job as a replacement reverend in his hometown of Harrow, Kansas. The neglected son of a wealthy newspaper magnate, Castiel is determined to make the best of his life though he is haunted by nightmares of war. In Harrow he reunites with his war buddies Dean and Sam Winchester and the old Singer gang, and sets about living that peaceful existence he has craved. But, on the day of his first sermon, a young woman enters and disturbs the entire congregation.Meg Masters has crossed into uptown in order to get peace and quiet from her tumultuous family, where her hard life on the streets only became more difficult after the death of her father.Her continued presence makes Castiel feel new and uncertain things, while Meg finds his goodness irritating and yet compelling. The more Castiel learns about her, the more he begins to involve himself in her life until there is no denying that something is happening between them.Something that runs far deeper than just a summer fling.





	1. I'll be Seeing You

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Megstiel BigBang 2017 and as a gift for my fellow Megstiel shippers.
> 
> Artwork provided with special thanks from @knowmefirst and @notrachelminer on tumblr
> 
> For the fantrailer:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=67h2y3YxOiw
> 
> For the fanmix (each chapter title is a song from the 1950s to the 1960s):  
> https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLxQKkiFC3kb9qioeG8jLRxkBAuZkFVrT5

 

_Outpost Harry, Korea - June 1953_

 

The booming of mortar roared in his ears and he felt the earth shake beneath his knees. Clutching his rifle close to his body in the hastily dug foxhole, he turned to his company to tell them to hold fast. The three men remaining were shaking. Bally, Uri and Marvin all stared up at him with resigned terror in their eyes. Of the entire tiny squad, they were of the only ones left now in the middle of this damnable place. Their job had been to try to hold ground, to take out mortars, and they were getting hammered. Now they were stuck in a foxhole that stunk of urine and blood as the enemy pounded them mercilessly. They’d been separated from their company and like sitting ducks they were being taken out by the mortar in the near distance if they made a single move.

Castiel Shurley hadn’t seen such devastation since a hard battle on the Heartbreak Ridge.

“We can’t stay here,” Bally shouted as another mortar exploded twenty feet away. The bombardment had a pause and Castiel reached into his med pack. “Colonel is dead.”

“Norm isn’t dead,” Marv snapped. “He’s over on the other side. One of us has to make a decision here.”

“I’ll do it,” Uri said. Castiel looked at the big man in surprise but nodded as he stuffed a strip of material against his own wounded thigh.

“We’ll be behind you.”

Uri scooted to the edge of the foxhole. “On three! One…two…” He rose from his crouch to sprint to their abandoned jeep for cover.

A loud zipping sound was the only warning as the back of his helmet splintered under the impact. He wavered on his feet for a moment before collapsing face first in the dirt.

“Uri!” Marv shouted but Castiel and Bally grabbed him by the arms, hauling him down.

“Stay down!” Castiel ordered and he pressed his back against the rear of the foxhole, scooting up on his toes as he raised his mirror up.

“Can you make a shot like that?” Bally asked as he leaned up against him. They could both see the soldier who had made the shot from the bushes. “I’ll buy you a drink if you do.”

“Maybe. Not my speciality.” Castiel cocked his rifle and rolled to his belly. “We need him to come out a bit.”

“Could use Marv as bait,” Bally said with a grin and Castiel shot his friend a look. “What?”

“Don’t scare the old man like that. Let me focus.”

Castiel sighted down his rifle, wiping dirt and blood from his eyes, and wished that he’d listened to his father when he’d enlisted. He took a few minutes to himself as he waited for the sniper to show themselves. As ever, secretly, he blamed his own loyalty for getting him into this mess.

He’d been impulsive and sneaking in had been his even younger friend’s idea. It had been Sam Winchester who’d snuck in, following his father’s footsteps to war. He’d had something to prove apparently. His brother Dean had joined up just after to protect his brother, and Castiel hadn’t been far behind. The Winchesters loved war and they made no mistake of letting everyone know that when they met in MASH units on occasion.

Joining a unit of his own, Castiel ran it as regimented as possible. He didn’t like that mostly he enjoyed what he was doing. Better than sitting at social dinner by far, he supposed.

“You know what I’m doing when I get home?” Bally asked as he reloaded. Castiel tried to ignore him but couldn’t. “I’m getting a bottle of scotch, finding the most gorgeous gal and lad in all of London, and I’m gonna shag the ever loving fuck out of them.”

“The peace talks might give you the chance. Small goals,” Marv muttered as he tried for the hundredth time to get the crank radio working.

“What about you, Cassie?” Bally asked.

Castiel squinted down the line and waited to see if the sniper would risk leaning out. “Home to my studies. I might become a reverend after all.”

“Boring,” both men responded and he grinned.

“Captain!” a trembling voice called out and Castiel raised his head as much as he dared to look down the debris and mud. A thin young man, likely sixteen, was crawling through the dirt toward them. “Captain, help!”

“Who the devil is that?”

Castiel squinted down his rifle, not daring to lift his head far. “It’s Alfie.”

“Christ!” Bally clutched his rifle close and leaned with Castiel. “We need to get him out of there. They’re cranking up the guns.”

“I know.”

The gunman in the hills began to pepper the ground but the dust-up made it hard for Alfie to be seen.

“Come on, Alfie!” Castiel shouted. “We’ll cover you.”

Alfie was crying as he dragged himself over the ground. Castiel raised up out of the foxhole just enough to get a clear look and felt his stomach roil in what he saw. Alfie was dragging useless, bloody stumps behind him and every time he moved the debris would pull at his already wrecked skin.

“I need to get him,” he gritted and Bally grabbed him by the arm.

“You stay here. Our orders are to clear the roads. If we get killed…”

“No one does it,” Marv agreed.

“Alfie!” Bally called out. “Hurry that skinny ass up.”

Alfie was nearly fifteen feet from them now and his young face was upturned. “I’m gonna make it,” he repeated over and over. “God is good.”

“Come on,” Castiel repeated, wanting him to get in arms reach. Alfie outstretched a thin arm toward him and Castiel leaned out. Their eyes locked and he smiled. “That’s a good boy, let’s get you home.”

Their hands touched as another zipping sound whizzed through the air and the back of Alfie’s unprotected skull exploded. Castiel’s face was splattered with blood and he stared in horror at the shocked blue eyes on what remained of Alfie’s head. The booming sound in his ears warned him what was coming but all he could do was stare at the boy’s dead face.

The world around him exploded and he was knocked flying out of the foxhole. He was dimly aware of being knocked around by explosions and of a pain in his back but the only thing he could see was that young boy staring at him with such trust. When he landed, crunched between two burnt jeeps, he thought he might be dead.

Lying there, staring at the sky, Castiel began to pray.

 

**

 

_Kansas…1955_

 

He closed his eyes to get rid of the booming noise that still sounded in his ears whenever he was nervous. Now was not the time to be nervous. To think of the past. His hands shook badly and he wanted to bolt but he took a deep breath and reminded himself that the war for him had ended in 1953. It had been two years and he was now home where he should be. Korea was a distant memory.

Opening his eyes, he looked out at this new venture his father had all but forced upon him.

It was a bright Sunday morning and already the church was packed for his very first sermon. Taking in the crowd from where he stood behind the altar, Castiel Shurley adjusted his sleeves anxiously and cleared his throat. He shuffled his papers to perfection and waited until the last of the stragglers took their seats. Most, he knew, were here out of curiosity instead of devotion, but it never crossed his mind to chastise them. He knew that everyone was intrigued as to why the soldier son of the most affluent man in the county was bothering with their congregation. He wasn’t so sure himself.

“Good morning,” he said, his scratchy voice booming across the large hall. “Peace be with you.”

“And also with you,” the congregation answered.

He began his introductions almost robotically, having memorized it from his brief schooling. His father’s money could have paved his way easily, could have found him a good church in a major city, but he’d preferred being thrown in headfirst. Castiel didn’t want the commitment of his own church, which was why he had taken this temporary position to see if he actually had the ability to be a reverend in more than just theory. He wouldn’t forget how he was a replacement while the traditional reverend took a brief sabbatical. No one in the congregation needed to know he had taken this job at the urging of his father who wanted him close to home for a while. He’d only had the loosest education in theology, hardly even enough to make him a reverend really, but in this town where men of faith were few and far between, he was the best candidate to take over until the summer.

“Let us turn to page fifty-two and the opening hymn,” he said as he raised his hands palms up. They all stood obediently and he smiled encouragingly at the organist to his left. The old lady began to pound away at the keys with the subtlety of an elephant and he winced as she began to warble out the tune. Attuned as he was to the room, he noticed when the back door opened and the last straggler came in to take her seat in the only empty pew at the back. The only reason he noticed her and took a moment to really take her in was that it was unusual to see a lone woman come in dressed the way she was. Her skirt was inches too high above her calves and her red blouse was cut too low across her shoulders, while her hat was slanted over an eye in a dashing way. She was dressed well enough, he supposed, but there was a lack of conformity to the rest of the crowd who were in pastels and sedate, chaste clothing.

His lips pursed in annoyance. There was always one in the crowd, he thought and he reminded himself to do a sermon on modesty.

The crowd began to sing together ‘Ye Holy Angels Bright’ and he hummed along, aware his voice would do nothing for it. The Winchesters had always complained of his singing in the company and it hadn’t been improved with years of practice. The organist pounded away at the tune and sang horribly off-key but it didn’t matter. The entire congregation couldn’t hold a tune in a bucket. Sighing, Castiel took another look around the room and stretched his neck a little to check the rear of the hall.

The woman in the back was neither singing nor standing. Instead, she was reclining in the pew and, from what he guessed, was sleeping judging by the lowness of her hat and chin. It was insulting and the people in the pew across her were nudging each other and whispering.

Castiel thought to signal a warden to see to her but then gave up. He had no control over who was devout and who came to this building to simply pass the time. Lip-service parishioners weren’t his area of expertise, so he moved on from her. He carried through with the sermons and announcements with an air of authority that he didn’t quite feel yet. The crowd seemed to be impressed and he drew it to a close with a soft smile and encouraging words.

The woman in the back barely lifted her head.

It did surprise him when the Eucharist was nearly over and the line was starting to fade when she approached from the very rear. The closer she came, the further she came into uncomfortable detail that he struggled not to notice. She was looking around the altar in a way that reminded him of Bally in some ways. Covetous. Envious. He cleared his throat but she didn’t look at him as she ran her eyes over the single gold cross hanging from the ceiling.

“Body of Christ,” he insisted and her head jerked toward him. He wasn’t sure what to think then, only that his stomach plummeted to his knees and his skin prickled with unholy heat, at the look in her dark eyes. It seemed open and pained, the look he’d seen in soldiers before who faced constant horrors. Then just as quickly the look was gone and her grin was sly and bewitching, her eyes sparkling with humour. She wore too much makeup, smelt strongly of jasmine, and her eyes were too knowing.

Castiel nearly shoved the wafer into her mouth to stop that grin she shot him and he took the wine cup from the altar.

“Blood of Christ,” he said as forcefully as possible as he raised the chalice to her painted lips.

She sipped delicately. “Nicely done, Rev,” she whispered with a wink and flicked her tongue over her lips to catch a stray drop. Her right eyebrow arched and she ran her eyes over him with such frank appraisal he nearly stepped back before he caught himself. Castiel stared in surprise as she walked off with an exaggerated sway to her hips and he was aware that he wasn’t the only one watching. The older ladies were staring at the girl with open distaste at the scandalously low-shouldered dress and too high heels and began whispering to each other, while the men were making every effort to make their leering less obvious.

Castiel mentally decided to add ‘Constancy’ to his list of sermons.

 


	2. Nature Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel meets the infamous Masters sisters and discovers they might not be as alike as he assumes

 

It was his fourth sermon on a Sunday when the storm hit. The congregation, naturally, responded by dividing in half of those who wanted to come and those who stayed home to batten down the hatches and save livestock and crops from the driving rains. As he recited his notes, Castiel did a mental count of each of his audience and sighed. The church depended on charity from the patrons and it looked like this week it would be a lightweight tribute. He’d hated such things, found it beneath the true service of God, but a quick rebuke had put him in his place a year ago when he’d started travelling and helping others with their churches.

He’d learned quickly that most of this particular church was only attending out of frank curiosity now. He was the youngest son of Charles Shurley and a decorated war veteran who had served in the full run of the Korean war, often as part of the illustrious Singer Company, instead of staying at home. After the war and time spent in Walter Reed for fatigue, he’d travelled around before settling here once more. He was a legendary figure to them and to see this simple man in black suits and acting so sedate that it would have made dust settle was nothing very impressive to them. But the children begged to see him and he became used to being a bit of an attraction to the Sunday School as well, so he kept polishing and improving on his sermons. At the very least, Castiel considered, he should use their interest to do some good.

He had a particularly good one on temperance he was giving when the doors at the back of the church blew open with a bang, and the garish woman who entered only gave him a cheeky grin and salute. The entire church began to murmur at her rudeness but she ignored them to take her seat in the rear of the church with a noisy clatter. Castiel banged his hand on the pulpit to get their attention and continued his sermon with a little more force than before, eyes on the woman who had disturbed his church weeks ago. Perhaps it was a habit of hers.

“…and so it is written and exercised within our holiest of commands to exercise great caution about the lusts of alcohol in all its forms.”

A loud snort sounded from the back of the church and he stared hard over the shocked faces at the woman in the back. She was slouched and grinning at him, daring him to say anything. Castiel reigned in his temper and focussed on the upturned faces of his faithful. He closed the sermon more gently and once communion was done, with the woman not approaching this time, he made his way to the rear of the church in the procession. Once outside on the rainy porch, he took a deep, relieved breath that it was finally over.

He was accosted immediately by widow Ellen Harvelle, a kind woman who was on the church council. “A fine service, Mr. Shurley,” she said and he smiled, taking her hands in his.

“Thank you, Mrs. Harvelle.” He went to shake other hands but Ellen kept close to his side as the rest of the congregation filed out into the rain. They stayed under the porch awning and Castiel shivered at the cold breeze working its way beneath his black clothing. Eventually they were alone and he wondered what she wanted.

“I have to warn you, Mr. Shurley,” she said in a conspiratorial whisper even as she winked. “Some of the ladies on the church council have made it their mission to marry you off before summer.”

He gulped and looked down at her. “I see.”

“Now, if I was of mind, I would throw my Joanna Beth into the ring but she’s barely eighteen and still hung up on that Winchester boy. I swear if he looked at her right she’d be off working with the Singer Company as well. Who knows what she would get into then?” Ellen reached into her purse and pulled out a handkerchief. “So to save you the trouble, I’m going to warn you that if you get offers for dinner and luncheons, it will be for the sole purpose of seeing you married to a very devout and eligible young lady.”

Castiel winced and then painted a smile on his face as he was congratulated by a young man and his wife. When they were down the steps, he turned to Ellen. “Mrs. Harvelle…”

“Ellen, please.”

“Ellen. I appreciate their concern for me but I’ve no interest in being married at all. Let alone staying in Harrow. I am only here temporarily,” he explained and she smiled.

“That’s what I said and then I was married. Watch yourself, my good man, these ladies are natural busy-bodies.”

“I can handle myself,” he said with a kind smile and she gave him an arched look.

“I can imagine. Do come for lunch after service midweek, all right? My diner will have your favourite on the menu special.”

He smiled. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Of course I don’t. But if I don’t feed you, who will? Man cannot live on tuna casserole forever.”

His stomach churned at the thought. “I’ll be by. Thank you.”

She nodded and left to join her daughter at their old Ford. Castiel watched her go a little wistfully. The car might not make it past summer and he wanted to help them. Ellen and her daughter were just above poor but very proud and very active in the community. She’d been the first to take him under her wing to help him relearn the ropes of Harrow. His childhood home hadn’t felt the same upon his return.

The wardens would be waiting for him as they counted the collection and reviewed the schedule. The ladies waiting in the annex were there for coffee and gossip but he had no time for such indulgences.

He had seen exactly who had left his church and who had stayed.

When he came back into the main hall, the woman in red and black was standing before the altar, head upturned as she surveyed the stain glass and gold filigree lining the walls. She’d removed her coat and tossed it over the rail, revealing a long strip of white, bare skin that ran from shoulder to shoulder. It was a scandalous sight still in this age and he cleared his throat to alert her to his presence. She didn’t turn, only smoothed her hand over her skirt and her bracelets jangled when she did so.

A warden poked his nose into the hall and gave him a meaningful look that Castiel waved aside. When they were alone, he set his hymnal book atop the rail and approached until he could smell the heady jasmine perfume she wore.

“May I help you?” he asked.

She turned and gave him a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Not really. I’m just taking a lark.”

He frowned, puzzled by the mixture of slang. Now that he had time to survey her, he thought she did look familiar. “Have we met?”

Her smile was cooling and the look in her eye was icy. “Not really.”

“You’re not from around this side of town.” He started taking her in again. No, she wasn’t from uptown. A young woman like her would have had gossipy tongues wagging constantly.

“Not that you would notice anyway.” She held out a gloved hand. “Meg Masters.”

As he grasped her hand, he felt the strength she hid in her delicate frame and it made him look at her with more curiosity. “Castiel Shurley.”

She snorted rudely. “Yeah, I know. I pay attention.” She walked around him to her coat and purse, digging through for a compact. She powdered her nose before him, ignoring how inappropriate such an action was in a church, and Castiel saw that it was an open act of defiance. She was deliberately goading him.

Castiel didn’t move or react. He simply folded his hands behind himself and waited for her to finish this obstinate display. As he did, tiny details fell into place about this woman. Her hair was neatly curled and pulled back from her face, her cloche just tilted enough to give her a rakish look, while her makeup was immaculate but heavy. It was all designed to make her look older than what she was. Castiel pegged her as trying to look thirty when she was likely only in her twenties. She was younger than he was for sure and to top it off she did not fit with the usual sort that came to church.

When she turned to tuck the powder away, he noticed how frayed her dress was at the hem. With a sister of his own, he knew some fundamentals about clothing and this dress had been repaired dozens of times. The hat was from a decade past and did nothing for her really. Nothing about her seemed to fit together.

Annoyed with the prospect of entertaining an insolent girl playing dress up, he walked up the altar and flipped the heavy Bible shut. “If you are here to steal,” he said with just the right amount of accusation in his voice, “I do hope you would try to be less conspicuous.”

That surprised her. “Steal? From a church? Now that is a good thought.” She cocked her hip to the side and crossed her arms over her chest as she raked her gaze over him. “How much are you worth?”

Startled, he gave her a stern look. “You have made a point of disturbing my congregation twice now. I’ll have to ask you not to do that again.”

“What a shame, I thought it was all interesting.”

“You slept through it all.”

She raised her hands to the air. “Guilty.” Castiel frowned at the sight of her bruised wrists and she jerked her hands down, covering her wrists immediately with her sleeves. “I was just needing to get away from home.” Meg shrugged. “But I can go to another spot.”

“Maybe that would be best,” Castiel said as he approached. “A woman your age I assume has far better things to do than save your eternal soul.”

Her eyes flicked to him. “You think you can save my soul?” she asked, her voice as smokey as her eyes.

Castiel felt his skin prickle a little in warning. “It is my mission to guide others as the Lord sees fit.”

“That’s not a yes,” she picked out. “No point trying. There’s no saving this ruin.” She gestured at herself. “But I think I should get an award for trying, don’t you?”

“Two visits to a church…”

“Isn’t much.” She nodded. “Exactly. I should come every week. Thank you for offering.”

He stared. “I don’t recall saying that. You sleep during my sermons, you are late, you clearly don’t donate to the collection.”

“Ah but church isn’t supposed to care about what you can donate,” she said with a grin.

Caught, he glared at her.

“So I think I’ll just keep coming.” She turned around and picked up her coat and bag. Her skirt rode up on her hips as she stretched and Castiel had to jerk his eyes away from the sight of her garters and silk hose peeking from under the fabric. She pulled on her overcoat and gave him a cheeky grin.

“See you around, Rev. Can’t wait to see you grandstand to the rest of these sheep every week.” Meg leaned close as she passed. “Baa baa.”

Too dumbfounded to respond to her offensive attitude, he watched her leave.

#

“You know, for a guy with your history, you’re a shit shot sometimes,” Dean Winchester said as Castiel holstered the sidearm and stared glumly at the line of old cans still on the fence post.

From his place stretched on the hood of Dean’s black Chevy Styleline, his brother Sam laughed. “Maybe he’s got his mind on giving us a lecture on the evils of drink.”

Dean chuckled and took a swig of his flask. Castiel rolled his eyes. “I know better than to knock on hollow heads.”

“Clever,” Dean said with appreciation. “Been working on your jokes, huh?”

“I do have free time now and then,” was the dry answer. “Should I go again?”

“My turn,” Dean said. The abandoned field outside the old bar was the perfect gun range for the old war buddies. It was on the wrong side of town, like most of the Winchester haunts, but it was quiet and less constricting that Castiel’s side of town. “Then we’ll take you back home. That is, if you can stoop to hanging around two army bums.”

“I suppose I could,” Castiel muttered. Dean turned and expertly shot off three rounds that sent the cans flying off the fence post. He gave Castiel a shit-eating grin that the other man tried to ignore.

“You shouldn’t have left the Army in such a hurry, buddy. You would have gotten better.”

“Well, with luck, I never will have to be good again,” Castiel snapped as he headed for the car. Sam rolled to his side and eyed him.

“Something bugging you, Cass? Or should I say ‘Reverend’.”

Castiel made a face at him. “I’m settling in. I forgot what this town was like.”

“A dead end in life?” Dean offered as he packed up their gear.

“Quiet. Very quiet.” Castiel shook his head and put his overcoat back on. “I had this idea what coming home would be like. I didn’t expect to not like it.”

“What’s wrong? It is a pretty cushy job, isn’t it? I mean, Sam and I are stuck fixing tractors all damn day for Bobby. You get to prep all week for two hours and take tea with little old ladies. Is there something else wrong?” Dean took another drink and wiped his mouth as he looked at Castiel. “You still dreaming?”

Shrugging, Castiel reached for his gun. “Just dreams. But that’s not the problem.” He quickly relayed the problem Ellen had brought up and it sent both brothers into muffled hysterics that they could barely hide from him. “…and then there’s this girl who keeps showing up and ruining the peace of my sermons.”

“Girl?” Dean raised his brows and settled back on his elbows against his car. “Pretty?”

“Hardly the problem,” Castiel pointed out. “She storms in and sleeps through the sermon. And she is very disrespectful when I do have to talk to her.”

“Sounds like love,” Sam deadpanned and Dean snorted.

“Sounds like trouble. Give her the boot,” he offered and at Castiel’s exasperated sigh he nodded. “Ah, right. Gotta be the good guy, huh?”

“Gotta be a pain in the ass,” Sam put in.

“Neither of you is very helpful,” Castiel said. He looked at Dean. “Isn’t Jo on your case?”

Dean sighed and rolled his eyes. “Cute kid but she’s a kid. She needs to grow up a bit. Don’t flip the tune on me. Get rid of this woman. Be firm. You’re too nice sometimes to hard cases.”

He went into his car and Castiel took the back seat before Sam settled in. The old car rumbled to life and Castiel closed his eyes to enjoy the ride home. His own pickup wasn’t as comfortable as this and he’d painted it a garish rusty orange just to annoy Dean. It was in desperate need of repair and when he was offered the chance not to drive he usually took it. The Styleline was big enough for him to stretch out in and he fell into a doze as they did a few rounds of the busy streets. Dean lit up as was his custom when he’d been drinking and the cigarette smoke made an arid smell in the closed cabin of the car.

A loud whistle made Castiel lean up from his comfortable slouch to see that they were headed into the rougher edge of town. The bars here were the sort that had never closed even during Prohibition and they had that rickety look of despair that made him uncomfortable. A crowd of women were outside one of the bars and close to them were a set of musicians arguing for entrance. Not at all people Castiel was used to dealing with.

Castiel rolled his eyes. Dean was doing this deliberately, he’d bet.

“Ladies,” Dean said as he leaned out the window and braked to an abrupt stop. “Anyone want to dirty a righteous man?”

Sam smacked his brother upside the head. “Leave Cas out of this.”

“Hell, knock it off! I was talking about me,” Dean corrected and he winked at two giggling blondes who kept walking away from the joint and ignored him.

A slim brunette, leggy and dressed in a bright yellow skirt, strutted across the road to them. Her every movement screamed calculated sex appeal, even to Castiel. Tossing her hair over her shoulder, she leaned into the window and took them all in with a wicked grin.

“I don’t do group parties,” she said once she noticed Castiel’s shadowy figure in the back.

“We don’t usually do whores,” Dean said though he was taking an eyeful in of her cleavage. She wasn’t looking at him though. Her eyes were on Sam and there was a twinkle in them.

“Sam Winchester, as I live and breathe.”

He smiled but there was a strain to it. “Hey, Ruby.”

“That’s it? Hey Ruby? Where’s the boy who kissed me in the corner before leaving for war?” She stroked the steering wheel with her long fingers in a deliberate up and down motion. Sam glanced at Dean who shrugged and tried not to stare too hard down Ruby’s low cut blouse. When he looked back at the girl, Ruby lost a bit of her edge at something she saw in his face. “I heard about Jessica. I’m sorry.”

Castiel watched as Sam’s face closed up completely and became emotionless. “It wasn’t anyone’s fault. Accidents happen on the road all the time. It was years ago anyway.”

“Still. Sorry to hear it.” She lost the serious twist to her face in the next moment when Castiel glanced at her. She gave the Winchesters a coy smile. “Fancy seeing you all here so late and without any kind of company.”

“You working the corner?” Dean asked. “Thought your daddy was setting you up.”

“Yeah, and then he went and got himself shot up robbing that bank. He was an idiot. Mom’s drinking like a fish and so we’re both working to keep her happy.” Ruby was still staring at Sam. “Hey.”

He sighed and looked at her. Ruby grinned. “Couple of bucks and I’ll help you forget.”

Dean gave Sam an admonishing look that his brother ignored. “Got yourself a deal,” Sam said as he dug into his pocket for his wallet.

Ruby nearly squealed in delight and Dean sighed, opening his door for her. She scooted across him with an inelegant thump so she was planted in Sam’s lap but she didn’t try to do more than kiss his cheek as he handed her the money. Stuffing the money into her bra, she sank into his arms and tried to see Castiel clearly but he kept his face in the shadows. Frowning, Ruby slung an arm over Sam’s shoulders and nudged Dean with her toe until he looked at her.

“My sister is working tonight if you want.”

“Rather fly solo, thanks,” Dean said. He jerked his thumb to the back seat. “Same with him.”

Castiel mentally blessed Dean. It was hard not to show his distaste for such an old, sordid profession when there was a prostitute right across from him.

“Shame, she’s a rocket,” Ruby said and she looked out the windshield. She chuckled immediately. “Never mind, she’s got company anyway.”

She pointed and the three men watched as a tiny brunette came barrelling out of the bar with a man in tow. They were laughing and she was pressing up against him, wildness incarnate as she tangled herself into his arms. They shared a slippery embrace as he groped her in public, though she avoided his kiss with a shove, and then she was pulling him off toward the alley across the street. She turned into the light and Castiel stared at her in surprise.

Meg Masters, even disheveled and sweaty from dancing, was a stunning sight.

Dean shook his head. “Poor guy won’t know what hit him.”

“You’re telling me. Meg’s got talent for picking pockets,” Ruby said with a sigh. “Kid needs to slow down. Crowley will have her ass if she steals more and doesn’t give him a cut.”

Sam ran his hand up her leg. “Let us worry about Crowley. After what went down with Luke after that sham of an election, he’ll probably get what’s coming to him if Luke ever figures out he snitched on him.”

“Even jails have ears,” Dean agreed.

Ruby shushed him, running a red nail over Sam’s lips. “Take me home, big guy, and let _me_ get what’s coming to me.”

Dean groaned in disgust but obediently started the car up again at a look from his little brother. Not wanting to watch Ruby suck on Sam’s neck like some sort of out-of-her-luck vamp, Castiel stared out the back window at the alley as they passed it. The passing headlights of a squad car glimpsed off the metal trashcans and let him see what was happening. Meg was being shoved to her knees even as the man unbuckled himself hurriedly and it took all Castiel had not to tell Dean to turn back around so he could save the young woman from what she was doing. But she’d chosen this life and it was what made him turn around and forget what he had seen.

#

Sam and Ruby disappeared upstairs the minute they entered the rickety old house at the edge of town. Knowing he was facing a lonely night at his own tiny rental, Castiel had elected to come back with them for a few hours rather than deal with his own company. As the door slammed shut overhead, Dean sighed and took a seat on the old lounger in the corner, rubbing his forehead. Castiel set about making coffee for and he noticed how quiet the eldest Winchester was.

“Something wrong?”

“This gig is getting rough, Cass,” Dean said. “I thought a few months off would settle Sam down but with what happened with Jess, with the war, he’s still looking for a fight. More than I am. Why do you think he’s up there with Ruby?”

“We all need to forget sometimes,” Castiel said. “I offered him guidance but…”

“You’re too close to him. You won’t do much good.” Dean sighed. “Maybe Ruby can give him a hand.” He grinned. “Bad joke.”

Castiel frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“I…just…never mind.” Dean reclined back and closed his eyes. As the coffee brewed, Castiel sat before him on the other chair and waited until he looked at him again. “You’re eyeballing me. Why?”

“Ruby seems familiar.”

“You’re part of the rich side of town, buddy. She’s not what you consider a friend of the family but we all grew up together when we were dirt poor. You remember those times, before FDR got us in one war and then Truman in the other. You saw her at the dances once or twice I bet before you left for school. She couldn’t afford to go past fifth grade but had this big torch for Sam. She dropped out to help with her daddy’s business, I think.” Dean stretched. “Masters, remember? Old Az. Had some sort of disease that made his skin and eyes yellowish.”

Castiel nodded. “We called him Yellow-Eyes. I remember. The rum-runner.”

“That’s him. He got shot up back just before we went to to the army. Him and his boy tried to rob a bank. Lot of good it did them. County took the farm and everyone was on the streets. Bobby tried to help but you know that whole family is proud as anything. They told him to stick it and moved into town.”

“Ruby mentioned she had a sister?” Castiel was trying for casual but he knew he failed when Dean pinned him with a skeptical look.

“Meg? Girl’s worse than Ruby, I hear. Nasty tempered. She was still a kid when we left so you likely never saw her and if you did, she didn’t ring your bell. Now she steals and she whores with the best of them from what Bobby told me. Crowley’s running some protection for them and that jade Lil collects the money. Girls work hard but they’re not innocent.” Dean shrugged. “Whole family is a rotten basket of apples, if you ask me. Money hungry I bet and I’m surprised no one has died yet. If you have any problems with them, you come talk to me and I’ll set them straight for you, got me?”

Castiel frowned. “Yes, I see.”

As Dean stood to pour coffee, Castiel sat and wondered why on earth a girl like that was showing up at his church service?

 


	3. Why don't you do right

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner at the Shurley residence reveals old wounds are still deep in Castiel's family. Meg escapes her own crappy family life for a day down at the river only to find herself not alone.

 

Dinner at the Shurley residence was always a stifling affair. Charles ‘Chuck’ Shurley was a newspaper magnate who was so busy in his study that most of the time he ignored his entire family as he began his newest political campaign. His sense of solitude had only become worse when the past years took his four finest sons from him. With one serving life in jail and the other three killed in the line of duty, he hadn’t had much reason to be social. He was left, Castiel thought without any jealousy, with just an aimless but faithful son and a daughter who had been stricken with polio from an early age. Chuck’s wealth meant that they were comfortable enough but they’d lacked his attention for years now and it wasn’t likely to change.

It made Chuck’s appearance at dinner so strange when Castiel came for the weekly reunion. His aunt Mara and mother Olivia sat on the opposite end of the parlour. Despite being twins, they shared separate interests and even when Mara visited it wasn’t really to socialize. Tonight Mara was reading her books as Olivia made her usual calculations for her herbology studies. Despite Chuck’s constant attempts to make Olivia a proper housewife, her lifelong studies continued through marriage, and Castiel envied his mother her sense of purpose.

Anna sighed heavily as she spooned a heap of peas onto her plate. Like her brother, she was aware of their parents’ disinterest in them and she was the reason he came to visit these days. His days away at school, at the war, had made his need for that bond to be more than just passing conversation. It was clear she still needed him to be her friend as well as her brother.

“How’s the church?” she asked when the silence was too demanding. Castiel poured her a cup of tea and set it within her reach. Weakly, she took a sip and sat back as if the very act had exhausted her. Sick as she was from her last bout of pneumonia, it was a miracle she was still alive really and he prayed for her daily.

“Typical. Busy and yet quiet. I’m enjoying the change in pace from the hospitals and military bases,” he said.

Anna smiled knowingly. “You hate it.”

“I hate what it’s become,” he corrected. “They put a sign up saying ‘whites only’ the other day and I took it down immediately. I have no use for bigotry in my congregation.”

She stirred a bit of sugar in her tea and shook her head. “Father raised us better, I know, but they need to be led by the nose sometimes.”

He nodded. “Hopefully I can do them justice. I saw too much hate in the war to want to see it here in Harrow.”

“Hate follows us all,” Olivia commented from her corner as she pressed a piece of aloe to drain its juices. “Your father found that out when we moved from New York.”

Castiel rolled his eyes. “I know, mother. We all heard the story about how he was condemned for his protests in the papers.”

“The joy of free will,” Anna said with a wry grin. She dissolved into coughing immediately and he reached out to put a hand on hers. He was the only one to do so, though his aunt leaned toward them.

“Should I get her medicine?” Mara frowned. “She insisted on being in charge of it herself.”

“I can take care of myself,” Anna snapped and she jerked her hand away from Castiel’s.

Castiel ground his teeth. He wished Anna would just ask for help sometimes but without round the clock care, his sister had become stubborn and set in her ways.

“We could arrange for you to visit Thorndale again if you refuse to take your medication and rest. If your death wish is so severe…” His father’s voice was soft and threatening as the slight man came into the room. Anna flushed under the idle remark and Castiel wished his father had thought before he spoke. In the grips of her despair during her teen years, Anna had gone into the sanitarium when she had taken to long bouts of silence and despondency. It had been the one time that Olivia had fought tooth and nail against his father to bring their only daughter home. It was what made Castiel love his mother so fiercely though she exasperated him sometimes.

“I’m just tired,” Anna apologized, staring at her plate.

Chuck took a seat across from them and speared a heap of pork onto his plate. He looked over his glasses at Castiel. “I hear you’re settling in well.”

“Yes, I believe so.”

“You know, you don’t have to continue work as a temporary reverend. I can have you working at the county paper like that.” Chuck snapped his fingers. “It is just as honest work.”

“Desk work,” Anna said with a wrinkle of her pert nose. “I can imagine Cass now with one of those silly reporter hats and a pile of cigars.”

Castiel shook his head. “I’m very happy doing what I do.”

“Not from what a few of the ladies told me.” Chuck was a resolute failed Christian but he kept an ear to the ground when it concerned one of his children. “They say you need to settle down. When I mentioned you’d ended things with Daphne years ago, they said it would take nothing for you to be respectably married. Daphne was a lovely girl, as I recall.”

“Dad, she wasn’t willing to wait for me. She married Jonathan Carver six months after I deployed.”

“Still. An unmarried reverend makes people nervous, you know. They’d be happy to sponsor you to take over the church in case that bumbling Zach doesn’t return.” Chuck took a swallow of wine. “I’d be happy to sponsor you if that is what you really wanted.

What he wanted was his father’s approval but he doubt he would get that if he asked. Castiel considered the possibility of the church under his direction. “I’m not sure.”

“Well, play nice with the old ladies and you’ll get the loyal faithful.” Chuck smirked. “Such as it is.”

“Charles, don’t ridicule people for having faith when you lost yours,” Olivia said quietly.

Castiel was surprised his father didn’t break the wine glass he was holding his grip was so white-knuckled. “Be quiet, Liv. We lost our sons and I’m supposed to praise God for that?”

“And we still have two children. Count your blessings,” she said. Anna and Castiel exchanged long-suffering looks as Chuck shoved back from the table. The loss of his beloved twins Luke and Michael, the ever obedient Ralph and devilish Gabriel, was still such a sore subject that to bring it up was to court disaster.

“I’ll eat in my study, if you’ll excuse me.”

Olivia looked up from her plants and books. “I’m sure you’ll find something to occupy yourself with there,” the redhead said just as caustically. Chuck stared at his wife, ready to say something, but at her steely eyed look he backed down. Olivia could be as cruel as her husband but she often treated him without kid gloves if he was being stubborn.

Mara shook her head at her brother-in-law as he left the room and she left herself to walk in the rear garden. Castiel sighed and finished his meal glumly, wishing for the world that he had been able to save at least Ralph in the war. Ralph could have taken the brunt of this, middle child as he was. Castiel, as the youngest, hadn’t been prepared for the focus of his father’s desire for a son to follow in his footsteps. Hadn’t been prepared for the sadness Chuck often looked at him with.

The look Anna gave him across the table let him know that she was aware of what he was feeling and the pity in her eyes made him hurry his meal and kiss them all good bye well before ten o’clock. When he said goodbye to Chuck, his father didn’t look up from his typewriter. Disappointed, Castiel debated on striking up some sort of conversation about the sordid goings-on in the bad end of town, something his father would actually be interested in. But instead of bother, he shut the door and jogged down to his old AK truck, knowing that the last thing he wanted was for his father to wonder what his youngest was doing riding with the Winchesters when he was supposed to be staying out of trouble.

#

Meg unpinned her rollers from her hair as the sun crept over her bedroom wall and gave her dark waves a tousle. Though Ruby had the tendency to sleep late, Meg often slept so badly that she could survive on a few hours and be up at the crack of dawn. Wednesday nights were always good nights for them and she had money to burn for once. The thrill of going down and getting a Coke was a simple one but she was burning for an icy drink. The soda shop was never busy on Thursdays and the clerk Kevin never cared that a street girl came in. Neither did his mother who ran the shop with an iron fist, not caring for the racist morons who came in to try to test her. Their own ostracized family had an uneasy friendship with the Masters girls. A blessing after a lifetime of being looked down on and Meg wouldn’t be harassed if she made it across the street.

She sighed and looked around the tiny room. It was barely enough to be a closet really, let alone a bedroom for two grown women. The shelf was stacked with clothes and makeup, and she owned very little. Meg couldn’t afford more than a few records and her inability to read very well meant that her books were few between. Old volumes her father had left behind were treasured but they might as well have been in Latin. Lil had taken all of the jewelry from their grandmother and Ruby had her own things stuffed in the corner, guarded jealously from both Meg and Lil.

The clatter of dishes in the common room made Meg groan as she ruffled her hair once more and checked on Ruby. The older girl was snoring away, sizeable bruises on her arms and knees. Meg stared down at her and saw the purple stains on her wrists from rope burn. It made her rub her own scarred wrists thoughtfully as she squeezed by their shared bed and headed for the living room in her ratty flannel robe.

Lil sat at the tiny bistro table, smoking and reading the paper. Her long, unnaturally blonde hair was hanging in her face and she pursed her lips as she inhaled a deep drag from her cigarette. When she saw Meg, her smile was slow and bewitchingly pretty.

“Hey, sugar. Rough night?” Lil asked.

“Same as always. Slower night so I’ve got nothing to show for it.” Meg took the cigarette from her and took a deep drag. She leaned back on the counter and rolled her head on her shoulders to ease the stiffness. “I need to get more rubbers.”

“Check the drawer before you go out.” Lil reached out and patted Meg overly hard on the belly. “Can’t have you getting knocked up on us. Got years left on you.”

“Funny.” Meg rolled her eyes and took another drag before flicking ash into the sink. “Ruby came in late, huh?”

“She’s getting some regulars. You should follow her example. I heard through the grapevine that Sam Winchester’s been taking a shine to her.”

Meg arched her eyebrow high. She’d known Sam from school when she’d knocked his teeth out during a scrap and her only good memory of him was him sharing his sandwich with her later anyway. Those times had been hard on little kids and friendships were desperate things. A moment’s kindness mattered very little. What she remembered about him made it clear that he wasn’t exactly the typical sort who trolled for a half hour of company. “I think Sam is out of her league.”

Lil gave her an icy smile. “I think you’ll shut your mouth. The boy’s family has influence in town. His brother isn’t half bad either. We play our cards right, they’ll look the other way as we carry on.”

The Singer Company had made life hard for the roughest edges of town and Meg knew her mother was trying to find an easy way out. She stubbed out the cigarette in the sink before she looked into the ice box. They were too poor to afford an electric unit and the aged contraption was empty enough to prove it. “I gave you money the other day for milk,” she said patiently.

Lil shrugged. “I needed other things. Crowley’s goons need paying too.”

“Still think it’s bogus you’re paying him anything.”

“You say that now but you just wait, girlie.” Lil shook her head and lit up another cigarette. “You’ll end up with a cracked skull and broken jaw before you know it. Nothing pretty about that.”

“Maybe I’d prefer it,” Meg muttered. When she closed the box up, she turned and came face to face with her taller mother. Lil caught her by the chin and held her steady, while her other hand smoothed down her cheek, the stink of the cigarette between them.

“Don’t be forgetting yourself, Meg.” Her smile was gentle. “Mother knows best, remember?”

“Mother’s been whoring her daughters since they were sixteen,” Meg countered. Lil’s eyes were cold immediately.

“Better than living on the streets like dogs, begging for money and handouts. If it wasn’t for me, you’d be one of those girls following work camps around Kansas, spreading your legs for every john that looked your way.” Her fingers pinched Meg’s chin between them. “Now, aren’t you thankful for me?”

The lit end of the cigarette loomed close to Meg’s eye and she flinched. “Of course.”

“Then thank me for it. For keeping you from being a street bitch.” Lil’s finger dragged down her cheek, nail digging in a little. “Say it very nicely or I’ll toss you out here and now.”

“Thank you, Mother, for protecting me,” Meg whispered. As rebellious as she was, the thought of living on the streets of Harrow terrified her. She’d seen what happened to girls like her when they weren’t protected.

“Good girl.” Lil let her go and took a deep inhale of her cigarette. She regarded Meg as if her daughter was a bug who couldn’t be squashed. With an insolent smile, she patted Meg on the arm. “Just so you don’t forget.”

She snatched Meg’s arm in her hand and twisted so hard the startled girl went down to her knee. Before Meg could fight back, she stubbed her cigarette out again and again on the inside flesh of Meg’s arm and the pain made her cry out in shock. Lil held her still as she writhed. When Meg finally stopped fighting her, accepting the pain as her punishment, Lil let her go completely and stepped over her sagging body to go to the stove.

“Now get out of my sight for a while. And let your sister sleep it off. I expect double tonight from you both to make up for your shit take the past few days.”

Cradling her injured arm close, Meg bit back furious words and hurried back to her room.

#

Castiel sat by the river outside of town and tried to focus on the sermon that he was composing for Sunday. It was almost impossible to think of a decent topic when the weather was so fine. It was rarer still to have the entire day to himself. The church was sparkling clean, his counselling duties were done, and the unexpected lack of visitors had let him leave church early in his truck to visit some of the farms around Harrow. In full planting season, the wives had been busy but eager to chatter with him and promise to come to the church breakfast in a few days. Needing their support, Castiel had done his best to be pleasant if slightly absentminded.

Nursing a Coke, he raised his knees and propped his elbows on them as he stared at the sparkling water. By the time summer came around, it would be half-swelled and the grass would be too damp to sit on, but today was a fine day. A quiet day. Time away from his duty and the inevitable day dreams about the past. The shade of the tree was cool and the warm breeze just enough to calm him down.

It was a good day to escape for a while.

He hadn’t realized how on edge he was until he had sat in the peace and quiet. In the distance, he heard dogs barking and cows lowing as they were herded from pasture to pasture. It was fair distance from town and he likely wouldn’t be bothered. As much has he liked having Dean and Sam around, their idea of relaxation tended toward loose women and gun play, two things Castiel was unsure of. Much better to sit out here and enjoy fine weather and silence.

As he closed his eyes and turned his face up to the sun to enjoy the sunshine, he caught the faint strains of music. Jazz, by the sounds of it, and sultry jazz at that. Groaning, he put his chin down and opened his eyes to stare at the embankment that curved around the stand of trees. Likely two teenagers who escaped from school and likely not for studious purposes. Knowing it was his guiding duty, he picked up his bag and slung it over his shoulder before heading down the dirt road towards the slope. The possibility of his old AK being stolen was slim in farm country and he took the occasional swig from his Coke as he walked along the path until he came down a small path that led to the river.

A transistor radio hung from a tree branch that hung low over the river and he shook his head, looking along the embankment for the owner. A splash caught his ear and he looked out over the slow-moving water to see a young woman moving hip deep in the water. At first he thought she was in trouble by the way she was bent over and Castiel was ready to wade in after her. He stopped himself when he realized she was simply wetting her long dark hair. As she tossed her hair over her shoulder, he stared in surprise.

Meg stared back at him with suspicion. “What are you doing here?” she called out.

“Visiting people who can’t always make it to church.” He turned away as she started out of the water, her cotton dress sticking to her body like another layer of skin. “I…uh… didn’t expect to see anyone out here. I heard music.”

Meg sloshed water around her ankles as she planted her hands on her hips, smirking at how uncomfortable he was. “I came out to get cleaned up. Staying at home wasn’t an option.”

“It’s miles from town,” he said over his shoulder and she shrugged as she came around him to pluck her shawl up from an overturned log. He looked up at the sky to avoid gaping at her curves and pale skin. Her faded dress left little to the imagination when soaked to translucency.

“I started out early.” Shivering, she wrapped herself up and Castiel finally let himself look at her face again. With water dribbling down her cheeks, her makeup had been wiped clean and took with it the years she always tried to put on. She looked very innocent though he knew she was anything but. As she rubbed her arms, Meg gave him a look that made him uncomfortable when she caught him staring.

“I’ll be going then,” he said. “I apologize for bothering you.”

Meg rolled her eyes. “You’re a character, baby.”

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Must be the reverend side of you. I mean, you could have gawked a little more.”

“I didn’t gawk at all,” he said, insulted.

She grinned. “Sure thing, baby.”

“Stop calling me that.” He squared his shoulders. “The proper way to address a member of the church is…”

“You know, you’re chatting at me and all I hear is blah blah blah,” she said pointedly as she moved around him and turned up her tiny radio just as a trumpet blasted. The tinny sound made him wince in pain when it caused ringing in his ears. He lifted his free hand to his head and gave his temple a gentle thump to try to stop it. Noticing his reaction, Meg tilted her head. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing. Sorry for bothering you,” he repeated and he began to beat a hasty retreat as a hot flash went through him. His ears rang repeatedly and he shuddered, nearly dropping his bag.

“Hey, hold on.” Meg turned the radio down and jogged to stand before him. Castiel winced at the pain throbbing in his temple but managed to stare down at her without seeing more than one of her. She looked him up and down while biting into her lower lip. “Got more than one of those?”

Distracted, he followed her glance down at his drink. Staring at her suspiciously, he reached into his bag and handed her a warm bottle. She grinned and snatched it from him. “You’re an angel, Clarence.”

“My name is…”

“I know, but Clarence just works so perfectly for someone like you.” Impressively, she unscrewed the top with her hand and took a deep drink. Castiel watched her and quickly looked away from the smooth column of her throat as she sighed in satisfaction. Meg smacked her lips and gave him a grin. “So, what brings you out to the boonies?”

“I’m composing a sermon,” he explained.

“On what?”

He stared at her. “Purity.”

Meg coughed into her hand. “Oh boy, rough sell in this town.”

“I’m aware.” He edged away from her. “I should get back.”

“Don’t be rude. You shared your Coke, least I can do is share my radio with you. Might inspire you.” She headed back for her radio, cranked the dial, and then walked barefoot up the slanted tree. As indecent as it was, she stretched out on the largest branch and turned onto her back to face up to the sun. Her cotton dress stretched tight across her thin body, emphasizing her breasts and the shadow between her legs. Castiel made a point of not looking at her; the effect she was having on him was an uncomfortable reminder of how unrighteous he was feeling these days.

She dug into her pocket and shook out a box of peanut brittle. “Catch.”

“I’m not fond of sweets.”

Meg rolled her eyes. “Eat the damn stuff.”

He was about to chastise her for swearing when she tossed the box and caught him on the chest. Needing to be polite, he shook out a few and threw it back to her. The sweet and salty of the peanut flavouring flooded his mouth pleasantly and he sighed as he took a seat on the embankment. Meg’s leg swung in his peripheral vision as she reclined in the tree, one hand dipping into the water now and then. He was sure she was asleep but then he heard her singing under her breath to the music.

“You enjoy very different music,” he commented as he finished chewing the last of his brittle.

“Better than that funeral music in the church,” she replied without opening her eyes.

“Hymnals are the way to the Lord,” he began and she laughed.

“If that’s the case, he is one boring cat.” She stretched her arms overhead and sighed. “Give me Ella and Fats anytime.”

Castiel sighed. “I suppose it is to be expected.”

“Probably.” Meg rolled to her side and propped her head on her arm. “Tell me, Clarence….”

“Reverend,” he corrected.

“What’s a swell guy like you doing in a town like this?”

“Apparently passing it with idle conversation,” he muttered. Meg arched a brow and grinned down at him. The look jarred him a little. “You are very familiar.”

“I should be. When I was ten you shoved me down at at a local dance and you walked on me. Still not sure if it was an accident or not.”

Horrified, he suddenly did remember her thanks to her explanation. A bratty little girl who had tagged along behind him and Sam all night at a dance and refused to leave until he danced with her. In his minds eye, he could see that cherub face with its innocent demands as she pushed and shoved at him until he’d finally had enough and shoved her back. Walking on her hadn’t exactly been his proudest moment but it had been the first time he’d sampled spiked punch.

Now that innocent brat was replaced by this young woman who seemed to have seen too much in the years.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I got the scrape to remind me about it for a while.” She rolled back and closed her eyes.

Meg lay for a while in the sun until her hair and clothing was dry and her skin turned a pinked shade. Lulled by the music and the sun, Castiel let her sleep and stared at the water and in his head composed a sermon that would be worthy of the occasion. He was surprised to see how easily it came to him then and with his exacting memory he was sure he wouldn’t forget a word of it.

Meg’s morose “I should get back” startled him from his daze. Castiel still gazed at the water as she shifted around. “Would you like a lift?”

“I figured you would offer, being a nice guy and all, but no thanks.” She hopped down off the tree, grabbing her radio. Castiel glanced at her as she stretched and groaned.

“You don’t have shoes?” he asked, gesturing at her bare painted toes. Meg wiggled them in the dirt while rubbing her upper arms. “Or a coat?”

“Ashamed of me?” she teased. “But no, Clarence. I left them at home. I was in a hurry.”

“Seems rather backward.”

“I was in a hurry,” she repeated.

“I should insist on giving you a ride,” he said.

Meg rubbed dirt from her feet and then with a slinky stride approached him. “But maybe you don’t realize what you’re getting into offering me things.”

He tilted his head. “How so?”

“How does it look for a reverend to be in the same car as a whore?” she asked bluntly. “I mean, people will talk.” At his dumb silence she nodded. “I saw you with the Winchesters, picking up Ruby. Did you all test her out or was it just Sam who was the lucky one?”

He stiffened. “I have no interest in Ruby.”

“Really? Well I must be special.” She fluttered her lashes at him. “How about that?”

“I was there but I was merely company. What you do is your own business of course and I was out with Dean and Sam. …”

“Out with Snafu and McBoing-Boing. How exciting.” She walked around him and finished her Coke as she did so. She gave him a thorough once over and licked her lower lip. “Doesn’t it bother you, being so near a sinner?”

“It wouldn’t matter if it did,” he said.

“But it does, doesn’t it?” Meg countered and she suddenly stalked toward him. Castiel steeled himself not to back away from her. Without her shoes, she was tiny compared to him and he looked down his nose at her. Meg touched his sleeve and wriggled her brows at him suggestively. “It really does.”

“You are one of God’s children,” he said, falling back on his schooling. “And I should forgive you your sins.”

Meg gave him a skeptical look. “You’re saying the words but you’re not believing them. I can tell.”

“What does this have to do with my giving you a ride into town? What do you care about tarnishing my reputation?” he asked. “I assume you don’t care at all what people think.”

“I don’t.” Meg folded her arms across her chest. “But I also have to be careful around men. Everyone is a job, remember? If they see us together, they think I worked you over and…”

Her meaning dawned on him. “And you don’t return with money, they’ll be upset.”

“Mm hmm.”

“That does present a problem,” Castiel muttered. His own reputation was in need of defending but also there was an unusual desire to protect this girl whose eyes were far too old for her face. He chalked it up to unreasonable guilt and considered their options. “I can drop you off at the town limits?”

“Don’t worry about it, baby,” she said as she headed up the path towards the road. She spread her arms out to the side and tossed her hair over her shoulder, giving him a saucy grin and wink. “I’m free and easy. Been a drag, Clarence.”

Castiel watched her walk down to the left and then headed for the right through the woods, covering ground quickly with his long strides. His truck was faithfully there and he tossed his bag in before firing it up. The entire time he muttered to himself that this was hopeless and stupid but he couldn’t stop himself. Rolling down his windows, he headed for the road and caught sight of Meg walking in the culvert, kicking up water from the creek like a child at play. He pulled up beside her and leaned out.

“I can’t let you walk home. It’s miles. It’ll be dark by the time you make it.”

Meg turned and walked backwards, smiling at him. This time her expression was pure brightness rather than cynical slyness. The change in her face was incredible and he nearly drove off the road in reaction to how pretty she looked that way. As he corrected the wheel, she laughed and gave him a wicked grin more like her usual. “I’ll catch a ride with someone else.”

“I don’t mind,” he insisted. “I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“You really are an angel, you know?” Meg said but she made no move towards his truck. Castiel sighed and pulled back into his truck cab and stepped on the gas, continuing down the road. As he turned a corner, he caught sight of Meg in the rearview, her arms folded across her chest and her long hair floating about her as the wind touched her. He focussed back on the road but slowly he looked again and again through the rearview, swiping his hand across his mouth as he debated on his options.

Frustrated, he braked hard and checked to be sure there were no tractors coming as he put the truck into reverse and sped backward along the fence line. Meg eyed him curiously as he stopped beside her and opened the driver door.

“I’m not leaving you out here. You can duck down on the floor if you have to.”

“Don’t need charity, Clarence.” She started to walk by and he caught her by the upper arm. Her gasp of pain confused him and when she yanked free he saw three circular burns on her soft skin. They were red and looked infected, but when he tried to check she jerked at her arm again. Realizing the possibility of a fight, he held his hand up to show he wasn’t going to grab her once more. Meg had the look of a cornered cat about to strike and he slid from the driver’s seat.

“I just want to be sure you get home safe,” he said. “Let me take you to the back alley in the square. You can hide on the floorboards if you have to.”

Meg rubbed her injured arm and stared down the long dirt road. She sucked her lower lip into her mouth and considered the distance. “It is a long walk,” she admitted. They both looked down at her bare feet, already dust stained and sore looking. Sighing, Meg shrugged. “I suppose it can’t hurt.”

She clambered ahead of him into the cab, and Castiel caught sight of her upper thigh and backside before he could look away. He quickly looked at the road instead and waited patiently for her to settle in the seat before climbing in as well. Meg reclined back in the seat with a sigh and stared at him once he closed the door.

“I just realized. I’m defenceless and you have me stuck in a truck,” she said as he shifted and stepped on the gas to creep the truck along.

Castiel looked her over. “I don’t think you’re defenceless at all.” That made her smile but he ignored it as he checked the lane and pulled back out. “Besides, I have no interest in you in such a way.”

“Really?” Meg sounded fascinated. “Why not?”

“I admire modesty in a woman,” he said and she stared for a long while before cracking a grin.

“You keep talking like that and I might slide over and prove you wrong,” she offered and he chanced a look over at her. Her legs, long for someone her height, seemed to stretch toward him with her cotton dress starting to bunch at the thigh. Swallowing down the lump in his throat, he looked up and saw that Meg’s grin was inviting and sly. He scoffed to cover his anxiety at her being so close.

“I think our time would be better spent in silence. Unless, of course, you wish to discuss Scripture?”

Meg gave him a sullen look that chased the smile from her face. She turned away with an annoyed huff and looked out the window while Castiel focussed on the road. Even with the quiet looming between them, a tiny smirk touched his lips.

 


	4. Pretty Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taking Meg home, Castiel is put off that this 'bad girl' can't stand to be seen in public with him. A church breakfast shows them both how deep the prejudice of this town runs.

As they rumbled into town, truck bouncing with each rugged pothole, Meg scooted down in the seat until she was wedged between the front seat and the dashboard. The town was quiet as always during farming season but she wasn’t taking any risks. Castiel glanced at her and shook his head as he turned the corner onto a quiet side-street and let the truck coast towards the abandoned houses at the very end of the drive.

“It’s insulting, really,” he told her, “that a prostitute can’t stand to be in the same truck as a man of God.”

Meg gave him an annoyed look. “You’ll get over it, baby. Being treated like a pariah isn’t so bad once you get used to it.”

Castiel rolled the truck into one of the overgrown drives shaded by trees. “I suppose so. We’re here.”

Meg popped her head up and squinted. “East side?”

“Far as I can get from the bars, yes. I can’t be seen with you either, remember. Not like this.” Castiel put the truck in park and let the engine idle. “It has been…interesting.”

She rolled her eyes and snorted. “That’s one word for it.”

Castiel watched her collect her radio from the floorboards and considered his options. It wasn’t in him to be rude deliberately, despite what Dean thought of him, and he cleared his throat. At Meg’s curious look he shrugged a shoulder up. “I was considering that maybe…” He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “If you insist on coming to my services, you should attend some events as well.”

“Oh?” Meg tied her hair back from her face in a quick braid and he watched her tangle the tresses in her fingers with a strange sort of longing to do it himself. He tightened his fingers on the wheel to ignore the feeling.

“We have a breakfast on the first Saturday of the month for the less fortunate,” he began and Meg gave a barking laugh that warned him he was on thin ice.

“Oh sure. I’ll be signing up for that.” She jumped out of the truck and snapped the door shut with a slam. Castiel stared at her as she rounded the front and headed down the street. Realizing he’d unwittingly insulted her, he debated on his next move.

“Wait!” He scooted from the driver’s side and caught up to her before she could get far. She winced as she stepped on a stone and paused to rub her heel, giving him an accusing look as if he was responsible for her pain. “I’m just looking to help you.”

“Yeah, well. I don’t need your help. I’m no charity case and I make my own way.” Meg gave him a thump on the chest with her radio. “You made it pretty clear how you feel about us sinners.”

Castiel rolled his eyes heavenward. “My feelings are not the point. There is no harm in benefiting from the charity of church. You may find you enjoy….”

“Yeah no. Nice try, Clarence.” She started to walk off and he blocked her.

“You know my name, don’t you? Why won’t you use it?”

“You remind me of someone else. When I was a little girl…” She shrugged. “Not like it’s important. See you around.”

Castiel counted to ten in his head to reign in his oddly emotional response to this impossible woman. “I am merely making an suggestion. Do what you will.” He waved her off. “Know that the church is always there for you when you are in need of help.”

Meg made an obscene gesture at him and headed over the grassy lawns towards the distant main thoroughfare, stumbling over rocks and discarded fence posts. Castiel stuffed his hands in his pockets and rocked back and forth on his heels for a moment as he considered his options. When he realized he was staring after her, he straightened up and turned around to head for his truck.

#

Meg didn’t show up at his sermons for either Wednesday or Sunday but Castiel gave it no real thought. He’d made it clear to her that he didn’t like her disturbing his congregation and his hope was that she had taken the hint. From what he’d learned from Dean and Sam, the Masters girls were notoriously trouble and he didn’t need that in his church. The last thing he needed was for Zachariah to return and find that his congregation had been sullied by a prostitute.

The thoughts of his own prejudice troubled Castiel as he filled his days with church functions and community outreach. He wouldn’t have thought twice about it before. In the war, he had seen prostitutes by the plenty and it had never bothered him nor had he once resented another man for taking pleasure in a woman. It had been something he had been aware of but his survival had consumed him. Here, in Harrow, he didn’t have the war to distract him and his thoughts were taking a dangerously interested turn. Meg had been raised with the most disreputable family in Harrow and she had even admitted she was not repentant about it. She was worth his righteous pity and charity, but he was sure he could do nothing extra for her with that damnable pride of hers.

But he often found himself thinking about that sunny day on the riverbank and her casual company more often than he should have been.

“Mr. Shurley?” A simpering voice caught his attention and he snapped out of his daze to face the older lady at his elbow. In her early fifties, Alice Night smiled up at him from beneath her broad brimmed hat, holding a steaming bowl of shredded potatoes between them. He smiled at her and she gave him another almost cooing chuckle. “Mrs. Harvelle was wondering if you could help her by moving tables. Unless you are busy, of course.”

“I’d be happy to help,” he said as he set down his coffee cup and stood from the rickety wood chair pulled up beneath the old tree. Near the front of the empty lot, Ellen and her daughter were spooning bowls of thick oatmeal and at his approach Ellen winked and gestured at two tables. Confused by her smile, Castiel wondered what she was about.

“There you are!” a piping voice said the moment he took a step toward the tables. He stared at a wide-mouthed girl in confusion as she all but bounced up at him. He had to strain for her name. Becky? Maybe Becky. The twenty year old had a reputation that preceded her. “Mr. Shurley, my Mother said you were here. Imagine that, after all this time. You know I read about you and the Winchesters in the church bulletin when you were at war and oh the stories I envisioned! I even wrote some of my own! I sent them to your father you know and he said they were very good.”

She spoke so fast that his head spun just listening to her. Castiel gave her a weak smile and nod, and started to drag the table to the corner of the open lot beside the church garden. Becky followed him, chattering a mile a minute but not once offering to help.

“Of course, I adored the stories about Sam Winchester but he doesn’t talk much about the war. I’ve tried, you know, but he just isn’t interested. So I figured, what’s the harm? Mr. Shurley is back and he might tell me everything!” Becky gushed. Castiel’s head throbbed because she spoke very loud and he paused to close his eyes. When he reopened them, she was so close that he could feel the press of her against his arm. “Would you like to tell me some stories? Especially about Sam? I could sit with you!”

“This is a a breakfast for the less fortunate. We need to help them,” he corrected.

“I’ll serve you coffee then! I’ll be right…” She turned to go and stopped abruptly. Her large eyes narrowed impressively to squinty slits and her lips formed a tight puckered line. “What is she doing here?”

Castiel looked around her as he straightened the table to see that the line up was long. Vagrants came through Harrow frequently on their way to migrant work and it was hardly any surprise at the diversity he saw in the crowd. Word traveled fast. Since he had made it clear he had no need for bigots the church had quieted down in their usual discrimination though he knew it was stewing beneath the surface. But it wasn’t the young men and their tired-looking families who caught his eye. Collecting a ticket and a cup of coffee from a curious young parishioner was Meg, who looked out of place among the other ladies. She was in high-waisted trousers and a tight vest, looking exhausted with a bruise on her cheek and dust on her hems. Still, she managed to seem proud despite the dirt and bruises.

Watching her approach the breakfast line, Castiel excused himself before Becky could protest and walked quietly behind the ladies and gentleman serving the line. After her rather upset tantrum last week, he hadn’t expected to see Meg here. Especially for charity. As he rounded the table, he watched as Meg collected utensils and shuffled behind two small children, seeming bored with it all.

When she reached the head of the line, Ellen went to hand her a bowl of hot thick oatmeal, only to have it snatched from her hand by the steely grip of Alice. The older woman had two others at her back, and like a gaggle of geese they all looked the same in their aged finery and were imposing compared to the smaller Meg. Ellen stared at the woman in confusion, her hand wrapping around a ladle as if to use it as a weapon to ward her off.

“I was giving her her meal,” Ellen began.

“We don’t serve her kind,” Alice snapped. Shuffling left, Castiel stood behind with his back to them all, and listened in.

“Girl is hungry, she’s getting food,” Ellen snapped.

“You’re not head of this committee, Ms. Harvelle. I am. We serve the less fortunate but not those who seduce the righteous. You know what she is, don’t you? Mr. Lemming mentioned it to me and now when I look at her, I can see what he means. She’s one of _those_ girls. Harlot.”

Castiel heard Meg groan and could just picture the pure exasperation on her face.

“This jezebel flaunts the laws of man and God for the sake of her sinful lusts.”

“Don’t forget the lusts of men. Can’t forget them, you know? They’re the ones paying after all,” Meg said. Castiel chortled out a laugh and had to stifle it at the look he was given by the man beside him peeling potatoes. He had to remind himself that it was highly inappropriate to laugh at such a situation.

“Well, you are the temptress that seduces them from the path of Christ. You aren’t welcome here.” Alice rounded on Ellen. “As I recall, your own husband was killed in the arms of a whore, wasn’t he?”

Ellen ground her teeth together so hard that even Castiel heard it. “My private business is mine. And I’ll thank you to stay out of it. This girl is getting her breakfast though because the Reverend said everyone was welcome, remember? My opinions don’t matter right now.”

Castiel glanced over his shoulder. Ellen looked ready to leap at the woman’s throat and Meg…Meg seemed more resigned than anything else. As if she had heard this all before and it wasn’t surprising her.

“Mr. Shurley gave us instructions that everyone is welcome,” Ellen repeated patiently. “Isn’t that right, Jo?”

Beside her and serving her own people, her daughter nodded. “As is the Christian way.”

“The Christian way?” Alice was turning puce. “God did not intend for her kind to walk the earth and draw men from His Grace.”

Meg stared hard at the woman, then suddenly shrugged. “Suit yourself.” She nudged the kids in front of her with her hand. “Take it. I’d probably choke on such holy bread anyway.”

The boy took it with open confusion and nudged his little sister in the side as Meg passed.

“That’s what momma calls a slut, you know.”

Castiel turned a little and saw that Meg’s hand still clutched her utensils and her knuckles were white. Her half-hearted attempt at kindness at been completely overlooked by her past and the realization made him shake his head. What was this congregation thinking? Zealots and bigots could preach family, love, and peace all they wanted but their actions proved differently.

Knowing he sometimes was no better didn’t help matters but faced with the unfairness of the parishioners, he couldn’t stand by. It was a slippery slope if he let it continue.

Rolling up his sleeves, he turned and silently approached the two women. His presence made Alice’s lackeys jump and flutter like startled birds. Beside her mother, Jo backed up at the look on his face and blushed red as she turned to hand more bowls out. Patiently, Castiel put his hand on Ellen’s shoulder. “Is there a problem?”

“Ask Mrs. Night here,” she groused as she turned away.

“Just maintaining some dignity for our church,” the older woman snapped. Castiel squinted at her.

“I wasn’t aware that you could cast the first stone,” he said calmly and she went red. “I believe I made myself clear. Everyone is welcome.”

“But…it is unnatural!” Alice protested. Castiel was aware of the growing crowd around them and despite his growing unease at being so on spot, he steeled himself against that swamped feeling. Forcing himself to breathe deeply, he only looked at Alice and her tiny group of followers who looked as zealous as she did about ostracizing Meg. Though he had his doubts about her intentions himself, Castiel was willing to move beyond that for the sake of what was right.

She didn’t deserve this.

“Ellen?” he asked and he gestured. She immediately handed him two bowls and hunks of fried bread. “Perhaps I need to lead by example.”

The open-mouthed fury of the other woman didn’t make him flinch but his slow smile made Ellen grin at him as he passed her, following Meg down towards the roadway. A few men were whistling at her but at his approach they clammed up and looked innocently away. Castiel ignored them and picked up speed to catch Meg before she headed down the road. She had stopped to give the packed road a puzzled look, as if trying to figure out how to get across town in the morning drizzle.

“Ms. Masters,” Castiel said lowly and she whipped around. With her hair in a severe knot and her caked and creased makeup, Meg looked less put together than usual. He held out the oatmeal to her. “I’d appreciate it you’d eat with me.”

Meg thrust her chin out and refused to take the bowl. “Don’t you have a reputation?”

Castiel shrugged. “In for a penny, as it were.” He wiggled the bowl. “You do seem hungry. It would have been a long walk here.”

An understatement and they both knew it. Meg would have had to be out very early to get here by eight in the morning. She took the bowl from him and he gestured to the side where his chair was beneath the shade. Casting looks to the side, she joined him beneath the tree and he fussed over finding her a place. Meg looked awkward as she fidgeted beside him while he dusted off another chair and set it to the opposite side. They were in open view of everyone now and there was no lacking in curious looks.

“What changed your mind?” she asked as she dropped into the chair and kicked off her shoes. “I thought it would dirty those wings you’re trying to earn, Clarence.”

“I like to see things done fairly. You didn’t deserve that.” He noticed the disapproving stares he was being shot and shrugged. “I’m willing to deal with the consequences.”

“Good luck,” Meg muttered as she spooned a heap of steaming oatmeal into her mouth. Castiel ate slowly while she devoured her meal, unable to help but watch her with interest. The bruise on her cheek was an ugly yellow at the edges and she sat gingerly forward to avoid touching her back to the wood. If he had to make a horrible guess, she must have been hit there. Or worse.

He frowned so fiercely that Meg gave him a puzzled look. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.” He set down his bowl and watched her continue her meal. “How long does it take you to walk here?”

She considered. “If I can hitch? Fifteen minutes. If I walk…well… I have to take the back roads. Safer that way.”

He nodded. “Is that why you are dressed like a man today?”

She glanced down at her trousers and chuckled. “You’re cute. This is fashion, Clarence.”

“I see.” He knew enough from Anna that women wearing pants was becoming commonplace but Meg’s attire was all second-hand and clearly made for a man, not a woman. Electing on the side of caution, he let her eat in peace while sipping on his coffee and waiting for her to talk. When Meg finally sat back, content and full, he smiled at her. “There, was that so hard?”

“Shut up,” she said but it was a lighthearted jib. “Any booze in this place?”

He frowned. “It is eight in the morning.”

“I need to rinse my mouth,” she said simply.

“No.”

“Damn.” She slapped her hands on her thighs. “Well, I’d better be going.”

“You could stay. We are going to have a service later. Most of these people never get one if they are travelling for work.” He wasn’t sure why he wanted her to stay. It made no sense but he couldn’t stop himself. Sam would say it was his driving need to provide friendship to those in need. Dean would just call him stupid.

“Look, I get it. You’re swell and all, but I don’t like this whole church charity thing and you can’t make me like it.”

“Church thing?” he repeated. “Is it so hard for you to be…”

Meg fixed him with a dark look that cut him off and stood up. He watched her head off to the trash, dumping her bowl in a washing tub before rounding the corner into the graveyard that abutted the church. Knowing it would cause whispers, he followed her anyway at a distance, pausing to make small talk with Jody Mills and her close friend Donna though that alone would start gossip.

By the time he caught up to Meg, it was already turning for ten o’clock and he was aching for some peace and quiet. The lot was a hubbub of activity with the workers and vagrants devouring the meal before dissolving into amicable chatter. It was a social hour for those who needed it and he made certain that the committee knew he didn’t mind if they stayed to chat with one another. A whisper of “The old Reverend wouldn’t like this” was shot down by a steely look and his clear expectation of obedience kept them from shooing the people away.

He took the opportunity under the guise of retrieving more coffee to slip into the graveyard and start up the well-kept path. Lined with rose bushes that strangely flourished early, the graveyard was well protected from elements and its gravestones were immaculate. Don Morris, the most prosperous carpenter in Harrow also made coffins routinely, and his business was profitable enough that he generously loaned his young staff to keep the grounds clean. Castiel made a show of inspecting the roses as he went but he kept an eye out for Meg. He hadn’t seen her leave yet and he wondered if she had snuck into the church after all.

He found her sitting beneath the old sycamore, leaning against the trunk and sound asleep. It occurred to him that she did seem to sleep quite a bit. Castiel walked carefully around the stones and came to stand before her outstretched feet, his hands in his pockets as he considered her. His presence woke her slowly and she gave a soft sound as she rolled her head on her shoulders and squinted up at him.

“You always watch a girl sleep?”

“When they are in a graveyard, yes. It is unusual to see a live person sleeping like the dead,” he commented. Meg yawned and brushed a flyaway strand from her eyes.

“Clarence, you’re too much.”

“Of what?”

She sighed. “Never mind. Crowd thinning out?”

“Slowly. You could join them.”

“No thanks. I fly solo these days.” She reclined against the tree and gave him a sleepy smile. “Any more fireworks?”

He was confused for a moment but shrugged. “Not many.”

Meg considered him. “You’re…you’re something else, Clarence.”

“How so?” he asked as he crouched before her and plucked a few weeds.

“Last time I went to church, I mean really went? The rev railed against anyone who couldn’t fit in with his ideal vision, preached fire and brimstone about the Devil and the sin of lust. You don’t seem at all inclined to preach that way.”

He shrugged. “Lust is a problem, I agree. Being in the war though…it gave me perspective. About people. It doesn’t mean I don’t have my doubts.”

“As I remember it, your whole family is well-to-do. What do you have to doubt?” Meg challenged lazily. “You’ve had it easy. What’s the worst that you could have done?”

Castiel stared at her, stricken. Instantly he was sunk into morbid memory. Of starving women and children, of slaughtered soldiers who were little more than boys, and of commanders who had used their men like pawns for glory. His breathing came faster and faster and Meg’s face left his vision, replaced with grey fog as he struggled to overcome the sense of panic. Panic that he was about to be back there, plunged into a horror he had willingly stepped into.

A soft hand slipped along his cheek and stroked his jaw. “Hey,” a gentle voice called through the tunnel he was falling into and he trembled. Closing his eyes, he took a deep, steadying breath, and then looked into Meg’s face. There was no cynicism in her now but an open interest, as if she was inspecting him. Her fingers tracked gently up and down his cheek.

“Coming back?” she asked. He nodded. “Just breathe.”

He did as she ordered, aware that he had fallen onto his knees and that she had climbed to her own to be before him. He stared into her face, taking in the crease of makeup and smudged red lips, the streaky eye shadow and the ugly bruise on her cheek, and realized that beneath it all the girl was beautiful in her way. Her unexpected softness tugged at him. As he recovered, Meg’s eyes went over his face as if searching for something.

“You good?” she prompted and after another deep breath he nodded. “Good.”

Her hand didn’t leave his cheek and he found himself leaning into her comforting touch. It was incidental, the touch of his lips to her palm as she pulled her hand back, but it was enough to sting them both into realizing what they were doing. Meg scooted back quickly and Castiel stood up, turning his back on her as he tried to blink away the remnants of his flashback.

“Why, uh, did you do that?” he asked over his shoulder. She wasn’t staring at him but at her hand as if she expected it to bite her. In control once more, he turned and folded his arms before himself. “Meg?”

“Mm? Oh. Well. Mr. Cain, you know, the farmer that keeps bees? He comes around once a month. Lost his wife just after the war in the forties. He has something going on with my mom.”

“Oh.” Castiel was suddenly not wanting to hear her explanation.

“He was a colonel, you know. Anyway, few times I’ve seen him at the apartment and sometimes if she’s not around I get the job.” Meg shrugged. “He has his moments. He gets violent, not at me, but at the world. He’s normally so gentle but it is like his brain just shuts off.”

“And he’s back in the war,” Castiel finished for her.

“Exactly. So I calm him down, best I can.” Meg made a face. “Truth is, he doesn’t really come for sex. Most of the time he just wants to talk. Says I remind him of his wife a bit.”

Castiel had never considered that some men might search out women like Meg and Ruby for sheer companionship. Considering her considerable acting skills, he supposed Meg could play the role well if there was enough money involved. He knew it wasn’t a charitable thought. He also knew that he was becoming more and more curious the more he came to know the Masters girl. The realization made him want to bolt.

“I need to get back to my work. If you like, I can have someone drive you home.”

“Oh. No.” Meg vehemently shook her head. “Really.”

Castiel frowned. “You’re frightened of kindness?”

“Kindness won’t get my rear whomped when I get home. I’m already late.” She stood up with a hop to her step. “I didn’t…clock in.” She patted her purse and he wondered if she had last night’s take in there. “See you around, Clarence.”

“Goodbye, Meg.” He watched her head down the garden path without looking back once and then decided to forget about her. He had his duties, after all.

 


	5. Witchcraft

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meg's presence around Castiel hasn't gone unnoticed.

Meg stared at her reflection in the tiny cracked mirror in the lamplight. Dawn was just starting to creep up the walls of the bedroom but it was the lamp that gave her the idea of how she looked. She’d rolled her hair back from her face, put on fresh make up to try to at least appear less exhausted, and slicked on deep red lipstick. In her black off the shoulder dress, she wasn’t exactly presentable but it was better than the dust and grass stained yellow dress she’d worn hours before. She could hear the soft jazz floating in from outside. The bar was pushing the limits, being open so early in the morning but Crowley paid the police well to look the other way.

That he’d offered her and Ruby as additional payment was still a matter she had to bring up with Lil. Meg didn’t care much for her work though it was money, but she did have a thing about being at Crowley’s beck and call. Meg had already avoided it a few times but they’d figure it out. Some of the cops hid behind their badges to conceal their baser urges and Ruby had come home the other night unable to sit down.

Meg sighed and glanced at her sister, stretched out with a magazine in their bed. Ruby was determined to use Sam Winchester for protection but Meg knew better. Dean would protect his little brother from such wiles and Ruby was barking up the wrong tree.

Her hair in rollers, Ruby puffed away at a cigarette and stretched her lanky body from end to end.

“One of these days I’m going to be just like Ava Gardner,” Ruby stated. “Gorgeous. Rich. Men dying to have me.”

“Better work hard it then,” Meg said as she stared at her reflection. Ruby looked up at her.

“You know,” she said as she swung her legs over the side of the bed. Their room was a tight squeeze and her knees bumped Meg’s rear. “Mother is going to figure out you’re stepping out on us sooner or later.”

“Please.” Meg fixed an errant curl. “Lil doesn’t get out of bed till two on Sundays.”

“Where are you going anyway?” Ruby asked. “You got a beau?”

“Sure thing, kitten,” Meg drawled. “A man who doesn’t care his girl is a whore.”

“Some don’t, long as you give them a cut,” her sister pointed out. “Mother will be angry with you if you are taking work outside her jobs.”

“It’s not work. I just need to get out,” Meg explained. “This place is killing me. And if Crowley’s deals keep it up, I probably will end up dead.”

“Crowley isn’t so bad. Just don’t cross him.” Ruby poked her with her freshly painted toes. “Look, I get it. You miss Dad but he’s long dead. We have to make do.”

“I’ve been making do for a while.” The younger girl considered her options before her eyes darted to Ruby through the reflection. “You ever think that maybe we could take charge?”

“Rebel? Against Mother?” Ruby was wide-eyed. “You’ve got to have a fever. She’d kill us first.”

“Probably,” Meg admitted. “Be nice to have a reason to get out of bed in the day though. Instead of just going from john to john.”

Ruby shrugged. “Is what it is. Mom said if I can hook Winchester in, I could get set up for a few years.”

“He’s hung up on that dead girl, so good luck.” Meg pinned earrings in next as she stared at Ruby through the mirror. “Rube, come on. I know you. You never used to obey so blindly.”

“And you used to. You’ve done something,” Ruby said as she stood up and began to fix Meg’s hair. “What is it? You met someone?”

“Don’t be an idiot. I’m just wanting more lately.”

“Wanting more is dangerous,” Ruby whispered as she fixed a curl. “Come on, spill. You’re gone for hours on Sunday sometimes. I thought you were at the shop but you come back with muck on your shoes and you’re in a bad mood all day.” She slipped a pin into Meg’s hair. “Then this Saturday morning you were gone. I had to cover for you or Mom would have beat the hell out of you.”

“There was a free meal at the Church of Holy Mother. I couldn’t resist a free meal.”

Ruby tugged on her hair and forced her to look up. “Meg, that’s across town. Out of our territory. What if you were seen?”

“I got free food. I’m happy,” Meg said as she stood up and dug through their closet for her clutch. Ruby was staring at Meg with such suspicion that when she turned around she tried to laugh it off. “What?”

“Sam told me…wait…You…are you sweet on that preacher? The one taking over for the old goat. What’s his name…”

“Now you are being stupid.” Meg rolled her eyes. “I’ve got better things to do than to go seducing men with moral sticks up their asses. It is much more fun to wiggle them out of men who have things to lose, like their marriages.”

Like Lil, Meg wasn’t above blackmail if she needed extra cash. It would get them in trouble sooner or later but when times were rough, they needed it. But it was clear her sister didn’t buy it when Ruby sighed.

“Well, then why are you going there on a Sunday? You’re not some Christian.”

Meg narrowed her eyes a little. Her sister was much smarter than their mother gave her credit for and Meg knew she’d be pestered until she admitted it. It was a risk she’d have to take.

“Ever notice how the town is so quiet first thing in the morning? No one notices me,” she asked. “I go because I can enjoy it. For a second, it is almost like when our family ruled this town and we had respect.” She tossed a discarded ripped stocking onto the bed to make a point. “What are we now? Cockroaches that fuck.”

Ruby made a face. “I guess… you’re sure it is safe? I mean, you’re not lying to me, are you? If you’re taking a job and not paying into the pot, Mother…”

“Do I lie to you?” Meg asked.

“All the time.” Her sister sighed and got back into bed. “I don’t care what you do. Just don’t blame me when you get caught sneaking uptown.”

Meg blew her a haphazard kiss and left the room as quietly as she could. She paused outside the bedroom door of her mother and pressed her ear to the wood before cracking it open. Lil was slumped over by the window, her gin bottle in her hand and a cigarette smouldering away in the ash tray. Her curled blonde hair was before her face and she was snoring delicately.

“Right where I left you last time,” Meg muttered. “Why am I surprised?”

She shut the door with a click and headed out the hall. As she did, she passed a photo of her family when she’d been a kid. A ragtag gang they were but they’d been happy even if it had meant making other people miserable with their schemes. Smiling, she gave it a tap and then stepped out into the cold crisp of the morning.

#

Dean Winchester watched the girl walk hurriedly through the street from the comfort of his Styleline. The black car was inconspicuous in the dark of morning. Beside him, Sam was snoring away. As Meg turned up a street, he nudged his brother hard in the side.

“Wake up,” he ordered.

“Huh, wha?” Sam snorted awake. “What time is it?”

“Just after five.” Dean handed him the thermos of coffee. “Turns out Bobby was right. Those Masters girls are up to something.”

“I’d say onto something,” Sam joked and Dean gave him a look. “I don’t see what you guys expect. They were gangsters back in the day. Now they’re just dregs.”

“From what Ellen told me, the youngest showed up at Cass’s church breakfast. They haven’t been seen uptown in years.”

“Maybe she’s getting religion.”

“Maybe she’s got her eyes on Cass. He’s a catch, you know. Money and all that.”

Sam snorted. “Chuck’s not leaving him a cent and we both know it.” He leaned against the passenger door. “Cass can take care of himself you know.”

“Cass has a thing for making big mistakes at wrong times. Remember Seoul?” Dean asked. “The whole operation there was a big mistake but he stormed ahead on orders anyway.”

Sam wasn’t inclined to argue. “I’ve got Ruby covered. Let Cass handle Meg. Just tell him to be careful.”

“Got a better idea. We tell Crowley. He can leash her in.” Dean nodded at the fading figure. “He owes us for that gig in Carthage when we got Luke arrested.”

Sam shifted. “Dean.”

“Yeah?”

“You ever consider she might not be trying anything? I mean, I get it, she usually was up to something when we were kids but if we set Crowley on her…we could get her killed.” Sam shook his head. “It isn’t so black and white, you know.”

Dean looked annoyed. “Not my problem.”

Sam stopped him from putting the car in gear. “Dean. We aren’t killers. We’re not even cops. We’re just soldiers waiting for the next war at this point.”

“Look, we just let it slip to Crowley that Meg’s been uptown. Say we saw her. We won’t pinpoint Cass or anything. He’ll probably just threaten her and Meg will fall in line. That mother of hers will see to it too.” Dean saw Sam’s frustration. “It is for the best, Sam.”

“Yeah, I get that,” Sam muttered but he didn’t stop Dean from turning onto the street leading to Crowley’s Two Circles bar.

#

Castiel led the sermon from atop his pulpit with gentle affectation of nobility and Meg was more amused than impressed. She remembered meeting his older brother when she was a kid, a man who wanted to be in charge at a very young age. He had the same sort of voice but there had been no gentleness. She remembered crushing on him from the get-go. Since the big war, he was in jail for life and branded a traitor, and Castiel was apparently the one to clean up the bloody stain on his own family’s reputation.

Meg could relate to Luke, had adored him from afar, but she also understood Castiel’s loyalty to his family. It was why she had done as told by her father for so long, why she still stuck with Lil.

Loyalty was something hard earned in this town. If Meg had believed in anything beyond familial love, she would have said that love was something never earned either.

She dozed in and out of Castiel’s sermon, more concerned with filing her nails as he intoned the sanctity of marriage and the pleasures of a simple life. Meg sighed and curved her nail delicately, aware of looks she was being shot. When the crowd rose out of respect for the end of the sermon, she stayed seated and waited patiently, plucking at the frayed edges of her skirt. As Castiel led the procession past so that he could take his place by the door, she saw him glance at her from the corner of his eye. She winked and he resolutely faced forward again though she saw his hands tighten around the bible he held.

When the church emptied, Meg stayed in her place and stared at the rich interior of the old hall. Decorated plaques commemorating each of the reverends, tributes to their own ‘goodness’, and even a chalkboard commemorating the dead or dying. It was morbidly fascinating and Meg took it in. An elderly lady coughed near her and Meg shot her a look, pausing in her perusal to give the woman a blown kiss. Offended she left and Meg had the hall to herself again. She was there for some time, until the noise left the hall and front step, and she soon heard footsteps.

“I didn’t realize you were so devout,” Castiel’s dry voice said behind her. Meg turned in her seat and grinned. He had removed the borrowed black jacket and was tucking it into the closet at the side. As he smoothed the black button-down he wore, he glanced at her. “I’m surprised to see you.”

“Figured I had some free time, why not?” she said as flippantly as possible. “Thought you could fracture me a bit.”

He took a seat in the pew in front of her and propped his arm on the back. “Meg, what is your game?”

“Game?” she echoed.

“I could see taking advantage of the church’s generosity but you seem to be doing it mostly to bait me,” he pointed out as he turned in his seat to look at her.

“Don’t flatter yourself.” Meg crossed her ankles and leaned forward on the pew so that she was propped up near him. “This is just better than listening to my Mom’s drunken rants. You got your glasses on, baby.”

“I’m not sure what that means but I assume you are insulting me.” Castiel looked around the empty hall. “But I am pleased you are taking an interest in your eternal soul.”

“Bit late for that. Sold it years ago,” she grumbled. “This is just better than my other option.”

“Still.” He reached out and laid his hand across hers. “I am glad you are here. I think being in a church would be good for you.”

She stared at their hands in confusion and then at him. His gentleness and lack of expectation worried her. He had to be up to something and she went to jerk her hand free. His thumb caught hers and held her steady.

“Is something wrong?” he asked.

“Just trying not to dirty you. Wouldn’t like that to be a black mark on your congregation record.”

He sent her a wry look. “I understand.”

The way he was looking at her made Meg realize he knew exactly what she was thinking. Furious that she was transparent, she sat back and stared at him. “Thought you had coffee to attend to.”

“I do.” He let her hand go and she put it in her lap. Castiel sighed. “But I also have dinner with my family tonight. I need a moment to recover.”

“Family’s a jive, huh?” Meg asked. “You should see mine.”

“You’d like to compare?” he asked. “I could invite you to dinner. Mother would find you fascinating. Then I could meet your family and we could see how long I would last for.”

Meg swallowed but covered it with a sneer. “Uh, no. That’s for people going steady.”

“I thought you were interested in me.” His eyes were sparkling and she realized he was teasing her.

“Not on your life, Clarence. If anything you are keen on me.” Meg breathed a little easier. The easy dissolving into banter was strange considering he was a member of the church but it was better than being embarrassed by him.

“So that’s a no to dinner?” he asked.

Meg shook her head. “A few weeks ago you could barely look me in the eye. Now you want dinner with a whore? What’s next? A church wedding?”

Castiel looked amused. “Hardly. I was teasing.”

“Right.” Meg looked at the altar. “Inappropriate for a man like you, isn’t it?”

He shrugged. “I had some free time, I figured why not?

The counter of her own words against her made Meg flinch. She hadn’t expect that to bite like it had. Castiel turned away and looked up at the ceiling. Not to be outdone by him, Meg rocked forward and leaned over the pew so her mouth was close to his ear.

“You were looking for some necking, Clarence, you could just ask.” Bold as ever, she ran her fingertip up along the tempting shell of his ear and felt him shudder. “I might not say no.”

He swallowed but didn’t turn around. “I…”

“It would just be a few dollars. Your church could afford it. Just put it in the books as research for your sermon on chastity.” The nasty edge to her voice made her sound shrewish but she couldn’t resist seeing him squirm.

Castiel brushed her hand aside and stood up. The friendly banter from before had evaporated completely as he stared down his nose at her with that imperiously arrogant expression she was coming to know so well. Meg arched an eyebrow in challenge and he gestured to the side.

“Thank you for coming, Ms. Masters. I’m sure you will find what you are looking for elsewhere.”

Meg rose gracefully and stepped to the end of the row. As she passed him, she gave him a smirk as she slowly looked at him from toe to head. When their eyes met, she winked and slipped by him. She knew Castiel was staring at her as she sashayed from the church and she put an extra wiggle in her step to tease him. His exasperated huff made her aware that she had bothered him enough for today and she chuckled as she pulled the big oak door open.

The moment the big door closed behind her, she pressed back against the railing of the stairwell and sucked in a deep lungful of air. That unsettled feeling building in the pit of her stomach made her want to throw up the precious little in her stomach and she opened her eyes. Two men were heading toward her and she could have recognized their purposeful stride anywhere. Meg pushed away from the rail and scooted around the corner of the building, hoping to lose herself in the still lingering crowd.

She froze the instant she recognized the hot red Bentley amid the more sedate Chevys and Fords in the lot. Dressed in a black suit that was his custom with his flaming red tie, Fergus Crowley smiled at her from the drive. He waved to her, his smile wolfish.

“Hello, darling. Need a lift?” he asked as he opened the door. He gestured, fully aware of the curious looks of the uptowners.

Meg felt her throat constrict and she debated on running again. But two heavy hands landed on her shoulders.

“Come on, Meg,” one of the brutes said. “Boss wants to talk to you.”

 


	6. Sad Hours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brutal punishment has Meg escaping to the only safety she knows and to the one good man who could help her

Meg had expected them to drive her directly home to her inevitable punishment but Crowley merely directed his driver to take them the long route around town. Squished between the two hulking men who served as Crowley’s enforcers, Meg felt trickles of dread invade her normal cynical calm. Neither looked at her and Crowley had always been adamant that her ‘charms’ were lost on him, so she doubted rape was in order. But then again, she knew that rape did not need to be for sexual desire. Lil had warned her of that once. Meg clutched her bag to her knees and stared out the windshield resolutely.

“How’d you find me?” she finally asked. Crowley chuckled.

“A little bird told me you were stepping out. They were concerned for those nice people uptown, you know. They shouldn’t be sullying their fine reputations with one such as you,” he said as he straightened his tie.

“Little bird?” Meg thought aloud. It couldn’t have been Ruby. Ruby wouldn’t have betrayed her like that.

“Well, suffice to say, my dear, you have odd choices for hunting grounds.” Crowley turned in the seat to look at her. “Though perhaps not. Rich, moral people are easy marks for ones like us.”

Meg glared at him. “I wasn’t making for marks. Last time I did that, you and Lil gave it to me. You think I’d forget?”

“I’m not sure. Did you?” Crowley ran his hand across his beard. “I mean, what more reason do you have?”

“Maybe getting away from cockroaches,” she said.

Crowley reached out and pointed at her nose. “Adorable is what you are. Like a kitten.”

Knowing it was an insult, Meg sneered and looked away. In the rearview, Christian, an occasional lackey and driver, caught her eye and winked. He had once been in tight with Sam Winchester and company but now was working for Crowley, an act that Meg was sure meant that he was double crossing everyone. She didn’t trust him, never had, and he had a look in his eye that made her uneasy.

They rounded the corner to the stand of dilapidated buildings that made up the their own tiny slice of Harrow and Meg saw the curious looks they were being shot by the various citizens that dotted the streets on a Sunday. No rest for the wicked, she supposed. Crowley ran the streets here but he didn’t live here. He lived in a nice swanky apartment just next door to the mayor, something to give himself some ‘credibility’. Meg looked at the crime boss and saw he was busy writing in his ever present ledger.

The car rolled up outside the dry cleaners that she and her family lived over and Meg was jerked from the backseat the minute it stopped. Fighting the hold on her wrist, she looked over her shoulder across the street to see Kevin cleaning up the tables from the brunch crowd. He gave her an odd look and called out to his mother, who came to watch as well. Crowley noticed and gave them a wave that even Meg knew meant trouble. Kevin retreated back into the shop with his mother in tow, leaving her to face her fate alone. The two thugs took their spots at the entry and folded their arms. Had it been New York, it would have looked impressive. Here it looked foolish.

With Crowley and Christian at her back, she walked up the long stretch of stairs to the apartment and pushed open the door with her shoulder. Stale cigarette smoke and burnt toast greeted her and she grit her teeth. She started to bee-line for her room, hoping to lock them out, but Crowley snagged her by the elbow.

“Now now, darling, we are going to have a little chat.” He half-dragged her into the tiny living room. Sitting and smoking, Lil snapped her book shut and smiled. Crowley simpered nicely to her, “Hello, luv.”

“Fergus.” She rose and offered her hand, which he kissed delicately. “What an unexpected pleasure.”

“Just returning a wayward daughter.” Crowley pulled Meg close despite her struggles.

Lil’s eyes flicked to Meg. “Oh really? Ruby told me she was out shopping.”

Meg glanced over Lil’s shoulder to see Ruby peeking out from the bathroom. With a subtle shake of her head, she looked back at Lil to see that her mother was approaching with her usual cat-like grace.

“You could say that. I think she was out selling more than buying. Uptown as well.”

“Meg, sweetheart, is that true?” Lil asked, the saccharine of her voice setting Meg on edge. “You know better. You stay where I tell you to stay and I send them your way.”

Crowley looped his arm over Meg’s shoulders to keep her in her place. “Perhaps she was poaching for something sweet?”

“Maybe.” Lil tipped Meg’s chin up and Meg slowly lifted her eyes to try to stare her mother down. Lil smirked and glanced at Crowley. “Where did you find her?”

“Holy Mother Church. Rich people’s church,” Christian offered.

“A fair walk,” Lil figured out. “Maybe it was an accident.”

“From my sources, she has been doing it often.” Crowley sighed. “We just can’t have that, Meg. If you aren’t giving us a cut, we simply can’t protect you.”

“I’m not working there,” Meg said.

“Really? You’ve got no other reason to go across town then.” Lil’s fingers tightened on Meg’s jaw. “So tell Mommy what you are doing there.”

“I just need to get away.”

“From me? I’m your mother. You should obey me. The way you obeyed your father, remember?” Lil’s jagged nails dug into her skin. “So. Were you working?”

Meg debated on her options and knew no matter what she was due for something bad to happen. She didn’t even have an answer herself as to why she kept going back. So she merely folded her arms across her chest and stared at her mother. She was damning herself now so she might as well try to look intimidating.

Lil sighed. “I thought so. Fergus? I trust you are better equipped to handle this than I am. I am her mother, after all.”

“Certainly, darling.” Crowley turned Meg toward him. “Trust me, this hurts me more than it hurts you.”

He raised his hand and she braced herself but even that didn’t prepare her for the explosion of pain across her jaw when he struck her. His ring sliced her cheek and she tasted blood just before he struck her on the other side so hard she felt the heat from his hand. His grip on her kept her from falling and as she tried to pull free she had to blink to keep her vision clear. Starbursts clouded her eyes and she shook her head rapidly. Crowley pulled her upright and patted her wounded cheek hard.

“Now now, Meg, I really could beat on you all day but I just can’t ruin such a pretty face. It wouldn’t be business-like if my hands were involved. I can’t stand the thought of being the reason why you get such looks on the street for the next few weeks. Bad for my image.”

Meg slumped a little in relief as he let her go and wiped his fingers on his coat. He turned to his driver.

“Christian? If you would.”

She stepped back into the wall, aware that she had no place to go as Christian approached her. He spread his hands out to the side and then cupped her thin shoulders in them, drawing her dress low.

“Ah, Christian?” Crowley interrupted him. “Just so we are clear. Leave the choice bits alone. We need her to be able to work, even if it is with a bag over her head.”

“Sure thing, boss.” He stopped removing her dress and cupped her by the back of the head.

Meg looked over Christian’s broad shoulder to where Lil sat in the bay window that overlooked the street. Her mother was watching with avid interest.

“Lil.”

“Take your medicine, little girl,” Lil ordered. “The more you put it off, the worse it gets.” She looked at where Crowley was taking a seat on a delicate foot stool. “Would you like a cup of tea?”

“Love one.” He then gestured at Christian. “Well? I don’t have all day.”

Meg went to hit the bigger man in the stomach and he caught her by the wrist. His smile was cool but there was nothing in his eyes except for sick pleasure.

“Feel free to scream. It’s good for business,” he said and he struck her hard across the face, sending her to the floor. Meg began to fight with everything she had, biting and kicking, but she was outweighed and hampered by her own bad balance. Christian merely plucked her up and banged her into the wall repeatedly until her strength left her and she began to slide down, unable to escape what was coming.

#

The rain was coming in and Castiel sped across the street to close the windows of the church. He’d been painting the interior with a few volunteers that afternoon after his sessions with his parishioners and had left the windows open to get the smell out. After that it had been a short and as ever tense dinner with his family, then a pleasurable evening reading alone and listening to the radio as he worked. The rainstorm had been sudden and since his house was only down the street from the church, he’d chosen to walk.

He headed into the church and began to undo the ties that held the first set of windows open. It was quick but wet work and he hoped to be done before the storm became fierce. As he leaned out to catch the last tie, he noticed the rose bushes were shaking in the breeze. It was quite a storm coming in but typical for this time of year. He debated on putting boards up over the stain-glass and then shrugged. He doubted it was necessary.

Castiel wasn’t sure what drew his eye to the wraparound porch that circled the church but as he leaned further to draw the window closed, he saw someone huddled on one of the benches. It was likely a vagrant, he knew. Sighing, he pulled back into the church and went outside to shoo them away or at least offer to take them to the shelter in town.

“Do you need help?” he asked as he rounded the corner and shone his flashlight at the person. He recognized the dark wavy hair first and low cut dress immediately. “Meg?”

Sitting beside the rail, Meg flinched and pulled the low shoulders of her dress up. “No thanks, Clarence. Just needed a quiet spot for a few minutes. Thought no one was here. Turn off the light.”

Her voice was slightly slurred and he wondered if she was drunk as he clicked off his flashlight. Reaching out, he took her by the wrist, feeling the ridge of fragile bone below his grip, and pulled her up from the bench.

“I had to close the windows and I saw you. It is very late. I thought you would be working,” he said.

“Can’t work for a few days,” was the answer. He watched her silhouette move along the porch. “But I couldn’t stay at home either.”

“So you came to the church?” he asked, confused.

“Better than the street. Least I could break in and get out of the rain,” she said. He sighed.

“No need for that. Come in for a while and dry off. Then we can talk.”

“Maybe dry off but I don’t feel like talking,” she grumbled but she let him guide her along the porch. At his gentle prodding, Meg walked ahead of him into the safety of the church’s overhang, out of the rain and wind. He didn’t push her to go further and sensed if he did she would fight him anyway.

“Did something happen?” he asked as he followed her. “From what I hear, you were picked up in an expensive car this morning.”

Meg went stiff as a board and stopped. “Who told you that?” her shadow asked him.

“Ms. Mills.” He adjusted his coat collar when a few raindrops dribbled down his neck. “You’re not dressed for the rain.”

“I noticed,” she said wryly and she backed away until she bumped the rail. He heard her sudden intake of breath and thought perhaps she hadn’t realized how close it was. “Any more gossip that you’re listening to?”

“Nothing comes to mind.” He shook his head. “What are you really doing here?”

“Like I said, I needed to get away. Isn’t Sunday a day of rest?” she asked flippantly. At his silence, she groaned and started for the steps. “Look, I’ll split.”

“Meg, wait,” he said as he reached out and caught her by the elbow. Castiel heard her hiss in pain and he held her still. “What’s wrong?” he demanded even as he turned her toward him. He couldn’t see clearly in the darkness and with an exasperated sigh he reached overhead with his other hand and yanked on the string to turn the porch light on. She tried to move away and he tugged until she started to fight back, having to push against him. Her struggles revealed her to the light and he let her go in surprise.

Meg’s face was a painting of purple and yellow bruises, blood trickling from her already caked nose and her jaw lined with fingerprints. Her left cheek was puffy but it was when she turned fully into the dim light that he saw the depth of her injuries. Her right eye was swollen shut and bleeding, a cut lining from the top of her eyebrow to her lip and her right cheek swelled so much that she seemed to be struggling to breathe. The cut wasn’t deep but he hadn’t seen such a bad black eye since the war. She couldn’t even open her eye a little bit.

Meg gave him a toothy but bloody smile. “Come on, Clarence, ain’t I beautiful?”

“Christ,” he swore. “What happened?”

“Wrong end of a fist,” she said with a shrug. “It happens.”

“It happens,” he repeated slowly. “Meg…”

“Guess I can’t go ten rounds with Marciano huh? So close too,” she continued. Ignoring her levity, Castiel reached out to touch her face and she shied backward. “You wanna have a go too?”

“Stop it,” he ordered. Surprised by the soft command in his voice, Meg obediently held still as he clasped her face very gently and began to turn her head this way and that to see how badly she was hurt. The damage was appalling to him but it was her lighthearted attitude that actually disturbed him. “Who did this?”

“Does it matter?” she asked but she didn’t pull away. He tentatively touched the swelling around her right eye and she whimpered in pain, biting her already split lip to stop the sound. “Don’t.”

“I need to see if there is anything broken,” he explained. “Can you see at all?”

“It hurts to try,” she admitted.

Castiel ran his fingers down her forehead to her swollen lip. “You need to see a doctor. I had some medic training in the war but I can’t say for sure what could be wrong. You could have a fracture,” he decided as he checked the severity of her cut and the puffiness of her cheeks. “I could take you…”

“To who? Philips won’t see me and he’s uptown. And I can’t go to Dr. Star.”

The doctor was commonly known even to Castiel though his reputation was more butcher than healer. “Why not?”

“He only sees me once a month…and I can’t…” She shuddered. “Trust me on that.”

Though he was curious, he knew it might be a losing battle to probe. “What about Bobby Singer? He has some contacts…”

“I just need to take some aspirin,” she said, pushing him away. She stalked to the darker area of the porch to avoid him. “It’s not a big deal.”

Castiel stared at her and tried to see through this showing of strength. Meg’s rock-steady attitude of cynical acceptance was cracking. He should send her to town regardless, let someone else with less to lose take care of her.

Instead, he opened the church door. “Follow me. We can put ice on that.”

He headed to the stairs to the basement hall, which was tiny and barely finished. The aged but still useable freezer should have ice, kept specifically for picnics and hot days, and he took off his coat as he went down the stairs. He thought for a moment Meg had bolted but soon heard her soft step behind him as he turned on the lights. Castiel heard her breathing trembling in and out, and knew that she was cold. The chill of the basement wouldn’t help either.

Quickly rifling through the freezer, he found a hefty chunk of ice and hissed as it burned his finger tips. He grabbed a discarded towel from the spare table and wrapped the ice up before turning toward Meg. She was seated on a sawhorse, her legs kicking back and forth. Her skirt had ridden up and he saw the ugly bruises on her knees and thighs. Setting the ice to the side, Castiel quickly looked away and grabbed his coat from where he’d tossed it.

“Put this on, you’re shaking,” he said and she slipped into the tan overcoat without protest, drawing the collar up close to her face as if to hide the damage. Once her teeth stopped chattering, Castiel brushed her hands away and gingerly placed the ice against her swollen eye and cheek. Meg bit back a cry but he ignored her as he pressed it gently against the worst of the swelling. He saw her good eye, surrounded with a webbing of bruised skin, staring up at him.

“You’re wild, Clarence,” she said but her voice lacked its usual bite.

“I assure you,” he answered, “I’m very domestic.”

She sighed. “Never mind.” Meg flinched as he pressed the ice into her more firmly. Castiel took her in then more thoroughly than he had upstairs. Her usual black dress was torn at the hem, ripped to her hip, and spattered with mud and blood. Her hair had fallen free and was matted, while her heavy makeup was hopelessly smeared in an almost clownish look. Meg looked worse than he had ever seen her before.

“Tell me what happened,” he said and she sighed.

“Just the usual. This stuff happens.” At his silent encouragement, Meg closed her eye. “Crowley came by. Saw me here. Thought I was stepping out on the business. So he had one of his men put me in my place.”

Castiel frowned. “But you weren’t. Though I’m confused about you, Meg, I never saw you solicit once.”

She frowned back. “Solicit? What does that mean?”

“Offer your…services.”

“Maybe you weren’t paying attention,” she muttered.

“It isn’t right.” He adjusted the towel to relieve the cold seeping through to his own hand. “You didn’t deserve this.”

“Please. With the hell I’ve pulled, I’m used to it.”

“It doesn’t make it right,” he answered. Castiel lifted the ice a little and frowned. “I’m concerned your eye is damaged.”

“Don’t be. I’ll live,” she said but before she could move he pressed the ice down once more. Meg exhaled sharply and then moaned in relief, leaning into the cold gratefully. Castiel shook his head and looked over her again. He noticed she was cradling her side with one arm and he reached out to remove her hand despite her resistance. Castiel pressed his palm gently to her ribs and heard her wheeze in a breath.

“A few good kicks as well?” he asked in a flat tone. She nodded. “You’ll need to wrap your side. It will help. Any other wounds?”

Meg shook her head and he cleared his throat. “Any…internal wounds?”

“They didn’t fuck me, if you’re asking that,” she snapped and he sheepishly nodded. “They were proving a point.”

“Crowley and your mother?” he deduced. Meg sighed but didn’t deny it. Castiel removed the ice and towel and set it down on the bench. Taking her chin in his hand, he tilted her face up to the light and didn’t like what he saw. The swelling was severe and her right eye was a slit. “You need a doctor.”

“Like I said, I’ll be fine. I just needed to get away.”

Castiel frowned. “You’re going back?”

“Nowhere else to go.” She started to hop down but he stopped her.

“How can you go back? Let me take you somewhere safe. The shelter…”

“Would give me up in a heartbeat. Crowley runs that.” She shrugged. “Nothing else to do. All my money is at home, my clothes, my things. I have to go back. I’ll just sleep on the porch if that’s okay with you.”

“It isn’t.” Castiel sighed and considered what to do. “I think you need to be safer than that. You don’t need to go back, Meg, if you don’t want to. You do have a choice, you know.”

“I’ve never had a choice,” she said as if taking to an idiot. “You don’t come from my family and have a choice.”

“Everyone has a choice. The Winchesters taught me that,” he stated and she shook her head. She was swaying unsteadily on the sawhorse and looked ready to fall. Castiel put his hand on her shoulder and held her upright as he looked around the basement. An idea, one sure to get him into trouble, sprang to mind and he made a face. “I have an idea.”

Meg accepted his help down but pulled her hand free so that she could clutch the overcoat close about her body. Castiel escorted her back up from the basement and then led her through the church to the rear, to his office. Meg stared around herself in confusion at the spartan surroundings but he didn’t stop, instead slipping to the hall.

“Zachariah put me in charge of fixing the building, as our sexton…”

“Sexton?” Meg asked as he fumbled with his keyring.

“Caretaker,” he explained, “he went to get married and, well, never returned from Alabama.”

He popped open a door that blended perfectly with the wall and stepped back.

“It would be temporary but enough to let you get back on your feet. And be safe,” he said as he followed her through. Meg stepped into the tiny living room and Castiel went to find the light. “It might be cold though. There is no real heat.”

He snapped on the light and was dismayed by what he saw. The entire studio apartment, a perk for the badly paid sexton, was dusty and smaller than he remembered. There was only one window, clouded and barely letting moonlight in.

“You don’t live here, do you?” Meg asked as she stared at the bed in the corner and the various pieces of old furniture.

“They offered it but no. I’m down the street. I needed more space.” He winced as he bumped into an oversized table. “I am sorry for how small this is.”

“Small?” Meg walked around him and ran her hand over a chair. “This is huge.”

“It is?”

She nodded and tested the taps, letting rusty water flow. She poked her head through the tiny drape that hung in the corner of the kitchen. “It even has a tub.”

Castiel wondered why such things would impress her. “If you’d like to settle in, I will see if I can find you something from our donation rack to replace your dress. I’ll be back shortly.”

#

“What are you doing?” he repeated over and over to himself as he scrounged through the bins. This church was for charity, not for his own personal missions in life. But, his conscience argued, this was charity. This woman needed his help.

He selected the first dress he could find that and some blankets from the donation bin and on a whim retrieved several canned goods left over from the breakfast from the common cupboard.

“This is not what you are supposed to do,” he said to himself as he headed back. “You’re setting up for trouble.”

But then again, he had made bad mistakes so often in his life that what was one more?

He opened the apartment door and backed in clutching the stores. Castiel gave the door a kick to close it and hefted the things closer as he headed for the tiny kitchenette. A splash behind him made him turn his head to see that the curtain dividing the small bathroom was parted. Meg was topless, her dress sagging at her waist, and delicately trying to wash her battered face free of the blood. He watched her for a while as he set the cans on the counter. She’d already put a kettle on the hot plate and it was whistling away. He removed it but kept one eye on Meg as he did so.

Her long hair fell over her shoulder as she looked into the dusty mirror and tried to pluck caked mud from her hairline. Her black bra covered her decently enough but in his inexperience Castiel flushed and looked away to the coffee she’d dug out from a cupboard. It still smelled decent enough, so he poured it into a mug and stirred in hot water next.

“Are you hungry?” he asked as he heard her footsteps coming out of the tiny room. He pulled his keyring out and went for his utility knife to open the can of beans. “There’s not much…”

He turned and came face to face with the half-naked woman. It took all his will not to look down between them. Wiped clean of makeup, Meg’s battered face looked perplexed and she didn’t seem to notice his discomfort.

“Not hungry. If I ate, I’d just throw it up again.” She looked down between them. “I need your help with something.” Meg held up an old bed sheet. “I figured I could wrap with this. If you show me how.”

“Of course.” He took the length of material from her and measured it. Meg raised her arms overhead, wincing as she did so, and he began to wind it as gently as he could. “This will provide support.”

“Sure.”

He moved quickly, trying to avoid touching her skin as he did so. “But this part might hurt. Breathe deeply.” When she did as ordered, he tugged hard on the fabric until she made a squeak of discomfort. He tied the ends at her side and immediately stepped back. “Better?”

“I guess.” She frowned and adjusted her arms.

Castiel quickly held out the purple dress. “Here. This should fit.”

She held it up to her chest and they both could see that the dress was at least four sizes too large. Meg chuckled but held it up between them anyway.

“There’s blankets in the cupboard,” she said. “And I found some soap.”

“You should wash thoroughly to avoid infection,” he instructed and she peered up at him with her good eye. Castiel was aware of a strange steadiness in her but it was the resigned set to her mouth that confused him. “What?”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Well, it is as if you are expecting a cost,” he joked. This might be the perfect time to point her to the benefits of charity. A good turn deserving another. Anything to distract himself from the expanse of skin he was suddenly privy to. “There is something…”

She nodded. “Now that I expected.”

“I believe that,” he began but Meg cut him off by stepping forward and into him. He backed up into the door, thumping his head on it with a bang. His eyes widened as she cupped him by the back of the head and drew him downward, her fingers sliding through his dark hair. Castiel stared into her face as her lips pressed against his, her body shifting until he felt her softness and he tasted the leftover lipstick still staining her lips. Meg’s tongue slipped along the seam of his lips, causing him to gasp, and she pulled back, a smug grin on her face.

Castiel stared at her in surprise and Meg blinked a few times when he made no move to say anything. He looked at her beyond the bruises, beyond the pain, and in the next heartbeat he pulled her forward and kissed her in return. Meg made a soft sound against his mouth and stood on her toes, wrapping her arm around his shoulders. Aware of the way her hips pressed into his, he tilted his head and kissed her harder.

It was nothing like the tentative, chaste kisses he had once shared with Daphne when they were teenagers. Meg’s kiss was intoxicating. Castiel made up for his lack of experience with enthusiasm and he let his mouth part her lips, probing deeper and deeper as he bent his head and she leaned into him. The kiss was hot and desperate, her skin heating against his body as he brought her around and put her to the wall. Meg’s hand slipped down his neck and he felt her tongue stroke against his. All thoughts of nobility and religious rhetoric left him as he returned the caress and pushed against her. His entire body was tense and aching for more. He hadn’t felt desire like this before.

It was the soft, pained sigh she made when his arm wrapped around her waist that woke him up from the dazed stupor he was in. Castiel opened his eyes and saw the way her brow was creased. He pulled back from her slowly, watching her face as the contact broke completely. Her eye stayed shut for a moment before she realized he wasn’t coming back. His hand on her shoulder, Castiel held her back and instead looked at the grotesque swelling that distorted her pretty face. It reminded him of what he was doing and why.

“Something wrong?” she asked in a throaty voice as she looked at him. She cleared her throat. “I mean, cold feet?”

“I’m not doing this for that reason.” Castiel let her go and turned away, heading for the kitchenette. He retrieved the cup of coffee and pressed it into her hand.

As she took the coffee, Meg looked vaguely insulted. “Only goods I got for you is that.”

“Then there’s no need for payment,” he said with a smile he didn’t quite feel right giving. Meg’s confused frown worried him. “Meg, not everything has a price.”

“But…” Meg exhaled sharply, her bewilderment clear. With a sniff, she shrugged and turned away from him. “Your loss.”

Castiel breathed a sigh of relief that she had recovered so quickly and turned around to wash the counter down for her, trying to ignore the aching hardness that had set into his body at their kiss. He heard her undressing and kept his back to her until she passed him to leave her dress in the bathroom to wash. The purple dress was an ill-fit, swamping her in yards of fabric and dragging on the ground. Meg looked like a girl playing dress-up in her grandmother’s clothes.

When he finished his inspection of the kitchenette, he turned to find her seated cross-legged on the bed. She’d opened the window over the bed so splatters of rain came through but it refreshed the stale air in the room. He pulled the single armchair tucked in the corner close and sat on the edge, reaching out to touch her face. Meg pulled out of his reach and shook her head.

“I’m fine.”

Ignoring her, he took her hands in his and turned them over, looking at the fingerprints bruising her upper arms. “These will ache for a while,” he said.

“You know…” She tried to move back. “Thought you’d be out of here with your heels on fire.”

Castiel rested her hands on his knees and reached for the ice and towel he’d brought with him. He pressed the cold towel to her wrist to ease the hot swelling. “You’re very lucky your wrist isn’t broken.”

“Careful. I might flip for you if you keep talking so sweet.”

Castiel raised his eyes to her face and she grinned at him. Ignoring the smile, he leaned forward and inspected her bloody knuckles. “You clearly gave as good as you got.”

She shrugged and he continued to press the towel to her bruises, worried that perhaps there was more damage.

“If you’re not expecting a turn,” Meg said suddenly. “Why are you throwing me a bone, Clarence?”

“I’m not sure,” he admitted as he turned her wrist over again and looked at the ragged scars that ran across her wrists. They were old rope burns that had scarred over, lacking the depth of knife cuts. Meg noticed the way he was staring and jerked her hands out of his. Instead of insisting, he sat back. “And I don’t understand this Clarence business. You know my name. If we were being polite, you would call me Mr. Shurley.”

She looked at him with a vague smile. “You really don’t go to the movies much, do you?”

He made a face. “I have better things to do.”

“Books and television are quite the rocket now too…”

The inane conversation was confusing after the passionate few minutes they’d just shared. “Do you have a point?” he asked.

Meg sighed. “Never mind, Clarence. Guess I’m just tired.”

“I’ll bring you a radio in the morning. I’ll be back in a few hours so that you can rest. Did you need anything else?”

She frowned and looked around the tiny apartment. “Food, I guess. You don’t have to. I can be gone in the afternoon, once I get some sleep.”

“Meg?” He waited until she looked at him. “I’m asking you to stay here so that you are safe.”

Genuinely puzzled, she stared at him as he stood. “You’re an odd-ball, Clarence.”

That one he knew. “So I’ve heard. I’ll see you in a few hours. Lock the door once I leave.”

Picking up his coat from the counter, he headed for the door and flipped the light as he went. Once he was out in the hall, he waited until he heard the lock being turned before he left the church, satisfied that she might be safe again.

 


	7. Evil Gal Blues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Desperate for advice, Castiel turns to older wisdom to learn how to deal with the storm of emotion Meg brings into his life. A late night game shows them both how much has changed between them

Instead of staying at home, Castiel only paused long enough to grab what sparse food he had before he found his keys and headed out the door, tossing a hat onto his head as well. He took a quick glance up the street to the church and saw that there was no signs of Meg slipping out. Hoping she took his advice, he fired up the pickup and headed across town. It was so early in the morning that the only ones out were cops, street-walkers, and marks who were too drunk to say no. He kept his hat low over his face to shadow it from any curious eyes and headed down the side-streets. He slowed only when he saw Two Circles emptying out for the day and he squinted at the hulking guards out the door.

When they glanced at his truck, he sped up and headed for the salvage yard at the outskirts of town. The gates were closed but he found the key in the tin at the side of the gate and let his truck in before locking them behind himself. As he drove down the rows of metal and old army issue, he noticed that the old house was dark. He didn’t doubt that someone was up though. The entire Singer Company was made for night owls it seemed.

When he let himself into the house, the radio was softly playing and Sam was sound asleep on the couch, wrapped in a thick flannel blanket. Bobby looked up from where he was playing solitaire and nodded to him. “Hey, Cass.”

“Mr. Singer.” Castiel closed the door and removed his hat. “Where’s Dean?”

The older man rolled his eyes heavenward. “Upstairs with some barfly.”

“Sounds about right,” Castiel agreed and he paused to look at Sam. “Is he okay?”

“He was all huffy last night. Apparently some girl he’s been seeing couldn’t come out and so he settled with a new one. But she took off when she saw the yard. It isn’t exactly romantic. I keep telling them to take the girls back to their places but they sneak them in.” Bobby laid a ten of spades on one of the long piles. “It is early for you to be up, isn’t it? Rough night?”

“You could say that.” Castiel went to the kitchen and found a pot of coffee so strong that it nearly bowled him over with its smell. He poured a cup anyway and headed back for the living room. Bobby wheeled his chair around and Castiel watched him with the tiniest bit of regret. Colonel Robert Singer had been struck down in Korea during a raid and despite Castiel’s best attempts at the time, he hadn’t walked since. It was still a source of friction between them.

“Bad dreams? We all get those,” Bobby said as he poured a hefty amount of whiskey into his coffee. Castiel sipped his drink and took a chair opposite the card table.

“I had a visitor at the church.”

Bobby frowned. “Robber?”

“A woman. She was seeking sanctuary, I suppose you could say.” Castiel leaned back. “She was badly beaten.”

“Who is she?”

Castiel nearly hesitated but Bobby was a trusted friend. “Meg Masters.”

Bobby nearly choked on his spiked drink. “Old Az’s daughter? Thought she was a street-walker now since the family lost their money.”

“She is. But she has also been attending my church lately and I saw it as my duty to help her.”

“Well, that’s quite a thing.” Bobby took a gulp and then rubbed at his beard. “She say, uh, what happened?”

Castiel watched him wheel closer to the table. “Apparently, Crowley decided she was working on her own. He had her beaten to force her to behave.”

“Can’t see that working on her. Girl is a live-wire as I remember it.” Bobby wasn’t looking him in the eye and Castiel tilted his head.

“What is it?”

“What’s what?”

“You’re hiding something,” he pointed out and Bobby sighed.

“Look, I wasn’t aware it was you she was following around but Dean and Sam had me pass a message to Crowley the other day. Let him know Meg was wandering uptown. You know us, we don’t like it when his crowd oversteps.” Bobby folded his hands across his chest. “Can’t say I’m fond of the girl. Her dad was responsible for Mary’s death in the fire that killed her. Jealous rage, all that.”

“Bobby.”

“That being said,” the older man admitted, “I thought he’d just give her a warning. Slap on the wrist.”

“The damage may be severe. I need medical supplies.”

“Take her to the doctor.”

“She refuses to go.” And Castiel wasn’t sure he’d take her to Dr. Star in the first place. He’d seen the flash of fear in her eyes that she’d tried to hide so well. “I can’t keep her at the church. There will be talk if she is found.”

Bobby took another drink. “You’re out of options. I can’t take her here. I worked too hard to get Crowley to leave my company alone in the first place. You want my advice? Get her out of town.”

It was logical but he knew better. “She won’t go. I know it.”

Bobby frowned. “How well do you know her? You never take interest in other people like this.”

“I do so.”

“Not prostitutes.” Bobby laid a card on the table and scrunched his face up when he couldn’t find a place for it. He sighed and put it on the bottom of the deck. “You’ve been gone a while, Cass. Maybe you forget what this town is like. If you’re uptown, life is sweet. But over that imaginary line, life is hard. That girl is trouble for someone like you.”

“I’m aware.” Castiel frowned. “I am doing what I think is right.”

“You sure it is just that?” At his nod, he was given a smile. “Well, in that case? I say get her on her feet, find her work uptown, decent work, and I’ll let word slip that we saw her heading out of town. But you need to think this through, Cass. If you’re looking for a quiet life in Harrow, you need to keep your nose clean. That means putting distance between yourself and that family.”

“I know.”

Bobby looked over at the cabinet in the corner. “Take what you need. I won’t tell the boys you’ve been by. Dean worries too much about Sam as it is. He shouldn’t be worrying about you as well.”

#

He pulled around back of the church and made sure there was no one around before he left the truck in the toolshed at the rear. It was still very early in the morning and on Mondays everyone tended to avoid the church like the plague. Putting the box of supplies under one arm, Castiel slipped into the back door and headed up the stairs to his office. He flicked on lights as he went but didn’t stop until he was outside the apartment door. He knocked twice, listening for an answer, before he fished out his key and unlocked, nudging the door open with his toe.

The apartment was still dark but no longer smelt stale and old. Instead, rich coffee and baked beans floated through the air and he was thankful she’d tried to eat when he saw the tin still sitting on the counter. Closing the door behind himself, he noticed the purple dress had been discarded and lay in a heap on the floor. Though he knew he shouldn’t, he glanced at the bed. Meg lay wrapped in the thick dusty comforter, her dark hair hiding her battered face, and her legs were now bare, peeking out from beneath.

Castiel turned and went a little red when he saw her underthings draped over the chair, dripping water on the floor. Realizing what it meant took some of tension away though he still gave the clothes a wide berth and put the box on the counter as quietly as he could. If she was washing up, she wasn’t running right away.

He removed his coat and hung it on a peg before starting on the box. Basic medical supplies, the same sort he’d used in the war when he’d been a part-time medic, a few tins of oats for breakfast, a bottle of milk left on his doorstep by the local dairy farmer he had a deal with, and bread for frying. Castiel made a face. It wasn’t much but it was the best he could do. He was a confirmed bachelor after all; shopping wasn’t his forte for anyone besides himself and he often just ate the basics. Combat habits were hard to break.

The bottle of milk rolled across the counter before he could stop it and banged noisily against the hot plate on the corner. The loud ringing sound set off a stabbing pulse between his eyes and he put down a packet of bandages to rub at his forehead. His hand shook as he tried to ease the shock of pain.

A soft murmur behind him distracted him from losing himself in it and he turned to see that Meg had rolled to her stomach completely. The quilt was pulled under her chin but she was shaking from the cold breeze still wafting in. Castiel crossed the floor quickly and reached over the bed to close the window. When he looked down at her as he unlatched the top of it, Meg was staring at him.

“You’re awake,” he said, trying not to sound too pleased.

She groaned and rolled up as he stepped back, rubbing at the back of her neck. “I only just got to sleep. This mess?” Meg gestured at her swollen face. “Makes it hurt to sleep.”

“I have aspirin for you, if you like.” He grimaced as he took in the wicked bruising and the squint of her right eye. The swelling had gone down a bit. “You need more ice?”

“I need booze,” she corrected before giving a long-suffering sigh at the chastising look he gave her. “But you won’t let me.”

“No, I won’t. Here.” He shook out two tablets and picked up her cup of cold coffee. As she took the aspirin, he leaned over and snagged the box off the counter. “Now hold still.”

Meg was surprisingly obedient as he wiped her wounds with antiseptic that was army issue. She kept herself wrapped up in the comforter and he was able to ignore the thought of her naked easily as he lost himself in work. When her arms were clean and wrapped in patches of gauze, he looked at her face. Without being asked, she pulled her hair over her shoulder and turned her head away, revealing the elegant line of her throat. Castiel worked quickly though he noticed how clean she smelled.

“You were smart to wash so thoroughly.”

“Hurt like hell too.” She winced when he touched a tiny cut at the base of her ear and rubbed antiseptic against it. “Are we done?”

“Just a moment.” He moved his hand over her cheek and turned her face toward him. He dotted the cream along her nose and cheek until her skin was shiny with it but knew that she needed ice and rest more than simple antiseptic. He rubbed his thumb gently over her cheek and winced at the feel of it. Her skin was already chapping badly from bruises. When he pulled a tiny tin box of bag balm out, she recoiled.

“That’s for cows.”

“Good for wounds as well.” He frowned. “Don’t be so close-minded.”

She looked rebellious but he held her still as he smeared the cold thick cream onto her face. It was an old remedy Castiel had learned from Bobby and he smoothed his thumbs over her skin gently until the abrasions were soft. He smiled at her when she glared at him with one good eye.

“That’s not so bad is it?” he asked as he sat back and let her go. Meg fussed over her thick covering and crossed her legs beneath herself.

“Where’d you get so good at that?”

“When I signed up, I took on duties as a medic in the army, along with fighting at the front. You learn things to survive.”

“You’re better than Star. You should have been a doctor.” She rubbed at her wrists. “Us across town, well, we stay clean best we can. Doctor helps some if he doesn’t scrape you out completely. Listerine and rubbers help. But there’s still that chance, you know?” Meg made a face. “I’m not cut out to play house with anyone, let alone an ankle biter.”

He said nothing to that, knowing what else she meant. To have a child out of wedlock, even in this day and age, was to be ostracized by the town. Worse still was the possibility of disease. He’d seen the training films in the army and heard about men suffering from VD. She was staring at him and clearly reading his expression when he glanced at her.

“I’ve been lucky.”

“I wasn’t asking but I’m sure I should be glad for you.” Castiel flipped the gauze back into the box and sat back to stare at her. “I’ve brought you breakfast.”

“I’d kill for a breakfast cigarette,” she moaned, hand going to her head. He smiled and shook his head, causing her to moan again. “Of course not.”

“The smell of smoke would attract attention. They know I don’t indulge.” He stood and gestured at the box of dried goods. “I need to work on my accounts. Eat, rest, and we’ll discuss what to do later.”

Once he left her alone, Castiel threw himself into work around the church, trying to forget the girl in the apartment.

#

It was strange, Meg considered, to be stuck in a church and not minding it. It had been two weeks since she’d come to Holy Mother for shelter and Castiel hadn’t turned her out yet. He had come by to lay down ground rules, such as when she could be out and about, what he expected of her, but he had left her alone. His rules weren’t much but he made it clear to her that he was expecting her to stay hidden. In return, he simply asked that she keep her temporary home clean. Meg found that she didn’t mind the mindless housework. When her reflection made it clear she wouldn’t appeal to anyone as it was, she stayed indoors and sulked and worked her problems over and over in her head.

Lil’s hollow gaze as she was beaten, Ruby’s hiding in the bathroom, and Crowley’s almost resigned cooperation as Christian took his obvious delight in hurting her… all of that bothered her. She spent long days simply sleeping, sometimes pacing, sometimes eating, and the entire time wishing she had a way of plotting revenge. She was on the losing side and she knew it.

So she settled in, hunkering down and avoiding everyone. To pass the time she bothered to get up, she investigated the church and grounds. When it was late in the evening, she went into the vacant woodlot and field behind the church and walked until her feet ached. The activity went unnoticed and she enjoyed the solitude as she healed.

The lack of company had surprised her. Castiel had distanced himself completely. He visited to bring her food and clothes often in need of mending, but he kept to himself. As she paced the meadow, the hay growing so high it topped her shoulder, Meg turned to look at the church. She could just make out Castiel’s outline over his desk as he worked. It wasn’t clear what he did every night by himself and she didn’t quite care. Still, Meg frowned. He had said the other reverend was due back in a matter of weeks and she knew her brief vacation from her rough life was about to come to an end. Where Castiel would go wasn’t clear and he hadn’t seemed too worried.

He was definitely avoiding her though and it made Meg wonder why.

Bored, she climbed the back steps and slipped into the church. She paused at the apartment door but at the clacking sound of his typewriter she continued down the hall and entered his office without knocking. Castiel glanced up at her from his desk but didn’t say anything, turning his attention instead to his work. Meg did a turn around the office, taking in the sparseness. The fireplace was crackling with a late-evening fire and the warmth drew her to the two wing-backs staggered around a low table still laid out with a game set.

“Checkers?” she questioned. Castiel waved his hand and read over what he’d written. Once he was finished, he turned over his notepad and finally answered her,

“One of my parishioners came for a chat. It was easier to talk to him by playing checkers. Takes his mind off things.”

Meg arched her brow as he continued to type with two fingers. “Anyone I know?”

“That’d be telling,” he said as the typewriter dinged. He pressed the return and the typewriter made a whirring sound as it zipped to the left once more. “Can I help you with something?”

“You’ve been at this all day. What’s so important?” she asked as she took a seat before the fire and pressed her cheek against the worn leather backing.

Castiel rolled the paper forward. “A report for Mr. Hopper. Detailing everything in the past few months.”

“Everything?” Meg asked huskily and he looked up from his work finally. He looked her up and down, then shrugged.

“Not everything,” Castiel allowed. He pulled the paper free, satisfied with his work, and set it on the small pile to his left. “How are you feeling?”

“Going bonkers.” She sighed and reached up to touch her face self-consciously. Her eye-socket was still sore but at the least she could see from both eyes now. Castiel stood up and approached her, jingling his keys in his pocket before he took a seat in the chair opposite her. He looked at the board, then at her.

“Can you play?”

She gave him a slow appraising look. “Daddy taught me. Play enough to save my soul, I guess.”

Castiel smiled and reset the board. “Let’s play a few games. I have time. You have something on your mind, I can tell.”

“Only that you’ve been hiding out on me.” Meg leaned forward, watching as he dropped the red pieces in their squares and then moved to fix the black ones. Castiel licked his lower lip but didn’t answer. She smirked a little. “You regret helping me, don’t you?”

“It isn’t that. You disturb me, Meg.” He looked up at her and studied her face for a moment. “That’s all.”

It shouldn’t have made her feel proud to hear that but it did. So she let him set the board and sank back into comfort, the fire warming her. Castiel turned the board so that she was black and the sight made her grin.

Meg touched a plastic piece. “What are we playing for?”

“I don’t gamble.” It was said so fast that she looked up. He looked suitably caught out and she ran her fingers over the curve of the piece.

“I think you do. Let’s say, I’ll do whatever you want if you win and if I win, then…” She debated on turning it back on him but the hunted look on his face was so comically concerned that she shrugged. “I’ll just ask you questions and you have to answer.”

“You played this type of game before, I take it?” he accused.

“It’s how I learned about Ruby’s first kiss when she was ten.”

They settled into the game, playing with tense unease of first-time opponents. Castiel was a slow player, judging each move, but occasionally he made an impulsive jump. Meg was careful to learn his strategy and elected to not play very hard. Still, it was a surprise when he kinged and kinged repeatedly until her last piece was cornered. Disappointed, she sighed and put her chin in her hand.

“Damn.” She braced herself. “I’d say you cheated but you’re too honest. So, you win.”

“I noticed.” He looked at her and after a moment he looked over her head. He stood abruptly and Meg stared up at him as he squeezed between her chair and the shelf behind her. Castiel shuffled back and handed her a book. “Read a little.”

Meg stared at the title page in confusion. Now this was unexpected. “Read?”

He settled back in his chair and crossed his legs. “Just a page. It was my sister’s favourite collection. I’ve kept it for use in Sunday school.”

Meg knew then how much about her he probably had found out. Her lack of formal education was likely part of it. “Fine. Whatever floats your boat.”

Castiel rested his chin in his hand and stared at her as she began to fumble through the fables. His eyes glinted with amusement.

 


	8. Talk to Me, Talk to Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel's dry sense of humour works its way under Meg's nerves until she turns the tables on him

‘… _In pain the birdcatcher threw down the twigs, and the noise made the Dove take wing. One good turn deserves another.’_

It took longer than Meg expected to read through ‘Androcles’ and ‘The Ant and the Dove’. She fumbled through words and sounded them out, paused over sentences in a broken confusion, and Castiel did not offer to help her once. Her lack of capability made Meg angry and nervous, fully aware of his quiet scrutiny, and when she finished the page she closed Aesop’s Fables with a snap. He stirred then, blue eyes half-closed, and leaned forward to reset the pieces. Meg was tempted to toss the book in the fire but talked herself into just setting it down on the side table beside her chair. Something told her that murdering an innocent book would get her in trouble.

“Another game?” he asked without looking up at her. Humiliated, Meg said nothing until he made the first jump. Then she set about beating him.

She moved faster than he did, took far more risks, and conquered the game easily. When her last piece was kinged and Castiel’s was wiped from the board, she glanced up to see him staring at the board rather stupidly. He looked up at her with his head cocked to the side.

“You’re good.”

“The best,” she sneered and she sat back. “So I get a question.”

Castiel nodded and leaned forward to stoke the fire. As it crackled, the flames lit his face up in orange relief and she decided to unsettle him the way he had her.

“Was I your first kiss?” she asked. He didn’t look at her.

“Not exactly.”

That surprised her. “Then who…”

“That would be two questions,” he admonished and he leaned back. Put out that she didn’t get a reaction, at least a flush of embarrassment, Meg sighed and set the board back up. Castiel watched her as she did so and it was when she put her hand on her first piece that he sighed. “Her name was Daphne. We were seventeen. Young.”

“Daphne?” she repeated. “She kissed you like that?”

He actually did blush. “Well, no. It was very chaste and at a party. But it would be my first kiss, though I suppose it might not count. It was a social peck. So no, it was nothing like that.”

Meg felt a little smug about that.

“We were together for some time. But our relationship wasn’t very passionate.”

“So does that mean,” Meg started, trying to sound casual, “you even loved her?”

“We were to be married.”

She glanced sidelong at him. “That’s not saying yes.”

Castiel sighed again, this time out of exasperation. “Daphne was a very sweet girl from a very wealthy family. It was a good match for both of us. I wanted to be a reverend at the time, she was content to be a reverend’s wife. It seemed like a decent idea. Looking back at it now, I can see that it wasn’t for either of us.”

“Can’t blame you. Don’t believe in love myself. Kind of a crap shoot and too much chance for getting hurt.”

He didn’t look at her. “Sometimes I think I agree with you.”

“You weren’t that old. What happened?”

“I went to serve in Korea and followed my friends overseas. Six months later, she sent me a letter saying she was marrying a friend of mine and she wished me the best. She didn’t want to wait.”

“Bitch,” Meg whispered but he heard her. Instead of admonishing her cursing, Castiel parried one of her moves with his own.

“Why do you say that? Daphne was an ideal woman for me at the time.”

“Well, Clarence…”

“And I don’t understand why you call me Clarence either,” he grumbled.

“The point is, she didn’t know how good she had it. You’re a catch and it’s her bad luck,” Meg said. He stared at her in surprise and she froze when she realized how that could be taken. “I mean…you know what I mean.”

“Of course.”

They played in silence and Meg noticed how distracted he was. Likely by a memory. So she took advantage and knocked him off the board with a few choice moves her dad would have been proud of. He stared at the board in utter confusion and then up at her. She nearly giggled at the look in those blue eyes. He was getting rattled.

“Did you like kissing me?” she blurted out before she could stop herself.

“Everything there is to learn about me and that’s your question?” he asked. “I think I’m insulted.”

She chuckled and leaned back so that she’d nearly sunk into the leather. “Girl likes to know she still has it even if she’s beaten to a pulp.”

“This has been on your mind, I take it?” Castiel asked.

“What else do I have? Best I can get on the radio at this time of night is ‘American Farmer’ and trust me, that’s a snooze.” He did chuckle this time and she grinned. “You won’t hurt my feelings, you know. It just isn’t often I kiss a reverend.”

Castiel seemed to think it over for too long a time and at her impatient hum he nodded. “I enjoyed it very much, though I shouldn’t have,” he answered, being sure to put that chastisement in.

Delighted, Meg grinned wider and nodded. “Couple more games? It’s getting past your bed-time.”

He muttered under his breath but began another game with her. This time they played in companionable silence, less tense and fierce than before. Meg found herself watching him, wondering what he was thinking whenever he glanced at her, but Castiel kept his thoughts to himself. She found herself off the board faster than him this time and she groaned in annoyance at the look he gave the book at her side.

“Any requests?” she sniped at him.

“‘The Boasting Traveler’ and ‘The Vixen and the Lioness’ would be appropriate,” he said without expression. Meg cracked the book open and began to read, struggling as she had before. Her face burned with heat as she read the last line of ‘Quality is better than quantity’ and realized what he was telling her. She tossed the book aside and Castiel stared at her, making it clear he was waiting to see her reaction. Meg pulled on her thick braid as she debated on what to do next.

“One more game?” Castiel asked. She saw the tiniest of quirks to his lips and knew he was playing with her now. Not one to be outdone, especially by a Shurley, Meg nodded.

Castiel played hard but she played harder, cheating when she had to. If he noticed he gave no sign, simply concentrated on the board and kept his thoughts to himself. When she crowned the last king and took his piece, she grinned and sat back, nearly wriggling with delight. His lack of reaction unnerved her but she waited until he looked at her again before she spoke.

“Last game, I’d better make this good.” She propped her chin on her hand and stared at him. Castiel waited, clearing up the board as he did, and Meg finally leaned forward until they were closer than ever. “Would you like to kiss me again?”

He gave her a wry look. “Is that the right question?”

Meg flicked her eyes away from his to look at his lips. He was trying to sound distant but she heard the heaviness of his breathing in the stillness of the office. “Would you like to kiss me again?” she repeated. “Or are you going to lie?”

Castiel blinked. “Yes.” He made no move toward her and Meg shook her head, shrugging.

“Shows what you know. Second kisses tend to be disappointing.”

“While I won’t lie, I admit that I have my reservations about doing so ever again,” he began and she made a face. Before she could remove her hand from the board, he caught it in his. “And you are testing my beliefs.”

Meg smiled. “That’s my job.”

“But this isn’t a job,” he countered sternly.

She froze, caught out. “No. No, it’s not.”

Castiel reached out tentatively and brushed his hand over her still bruised cheek. His nervousness was oddly endearing and Meg pushed her cheek into his touch, eyes shutting. The feel of his mouth coming to hers was intoxicatingly innocent and she stayed as calm as she could, tasting his lips and the faintness of mint. The kiss was a simple press, restrained even, and Castiel broke it to sit back once more. As he pulled away she came forward out of her seat and pressed him back into his, arms slipping up his chest to his shoulders.

The tight yellow skirt bunched at her hips as she straddled his lap and kissed him with far more thoroughness, her lips parting his as her tongue slid into his mouth. Castiel groaned and shifted beneath her, returning the kiss with a fierceness that echoed that night weeks ago. She felt his shaking hands coming to her hips, holding her still, and she leaned back with her arms about his shoulders. His kiss deepened as his tongue slipped along hers and into her mouth, and she dug her knees into the cushion as she wrapped herself around him.

Whatever innocence was in his kiss was chased away by the heat of him and Meg shuddered as he tugged on her hair, his mouth almost too hot as he let her lead. She moaned and ran her hand through his hair, mussing it as she dropped the other to guide his hand down to her leg. When he touched bare skin she gasped and he removed his hand quickly, more content to grasp her hip. Meg allowed it, too drunk on the heated kiss to push for much more, and she rocked into his lap as she sucked on his lower lip when he tried to pull back. He was back kissing her before she could do more than suck in a little bit of air and she felt his hands on the small of her back, steadying her. Moaning again, she drew his tongue into her mouth and let him kiss her as if he had all the time in the world to learn.

The kiss drew to a soft close as the need to breathe and racing pulses forced them to part. Meg opened her eyes to see him staring at her with a little bit of wonder and she smoothed her hands down his stubbly cheeks. She moved between his thighs and put her feet to the ground again, leaning against the chair to balance.

“Not bad,” she whispered.

Castiel cleared his throat. “No,” he answered and she slowly untangled herself from his body. Meg ran her hand through her ruined braid and gave him a smile that she hoped was confident. It was better, she knew, to beat a hasty retreat now.

“Night, Clarence.”

“Good night, Meg.”

The moment she left the warmth of the office behind, Meg stood staring stupidly at the wall before her as the door clicked shut. Her hand raised to her mouth and she touched her still burning lips with a finger. For the first time in her life, she couldn’t think of something clever to say.

#

Castiel sat before the fire and stared at the smouldering log without truly seeing it. He heard Meg’s door shut eventually and he slumped a little. At least, he thought, he wasn’t wearing traditional clothing when she kissed him like that. No, that wasn’t fair. He had kissed her and he had meant it.

Raising his hand to his mouth, he leaned on his elbow and gazed at the mantel. Old artefacts from Zachariah’s services, a crucifix and ancient thick Bible… everything was reminding him of his duty. If he had been Catholic, he’d likely be flagellating himself far more but he was sure he mentally couldn’t get away from these thoughts. He could still feel the press of her against his body and taste her mouth, while his fingers still ached for imaginary flesh.

There was a knock at the door and he didn’t turn his head, expecting Meg’s return. The heavy footsteps made him close his eyes and brace for what was coming.

“What’s the happening, Cass?” Dean asked as he took the armchair she had left.

“Nothing. Just sitting,” Castiel answered. He smiled at his friend. “What can I do for you?”

“Nothing much. You’ve not been around much, I was worried,” Dean said with a slanted grin. Castiel nodded and closed his eyes. Dean looked him over and his lips curved downward to a frown. “You’re looking rumpled.”

“I’ve been typing reports. It isn’t fun but it’s done.” Castiel stood and headed for his desk, gesturing at the stack of papers. Dean nodded and crossed his legs.

“Wanted to see if you wanted to come for a drink and drive with Sam and I. Ash and Garth are making that new bomb shelter since Ash is convinced the world’s going to hell as it is. After we finish there, Bobby’s got us making some rounds, keeping the streets in order up here. You hear of any trouble?”

“Nothing that comes to mind.”

“Really?” Dean’s mouth twisted a little. “Huh. Interesting. I heard rumour that the Masters girl was hanging around here a few weeks back. She’s not been back, right?”

“No. Let’s go now and I can get back in time to write my sermon,” Castiel said, reaching for his suit jacket. A soft clatter through the walls made him stiffen and Dean looked at him curiously. Castiel didn’t dare look at him and fixed his tie.

“You alone here, Cass?” Dean asked.

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Right. You having company would be weird,” Dean said as he stood. There was a loud whistling sound, the sound of a kettle boiling, and Castiel closed his eyes as Dean stared at him. Before he could stop him, Dean was out the door and headed for the hall. Castiel followed, unable to stop him or talk him off it, as Dean easily found the door and shoved it open with his shoulder.

Meg whipped around, clutching a sack dress to her naked chest in surprise as she backed up into a wall. Dean stared at her in equal shock.

“You?” he spat.

Castiel squeezed by the taller man and put himself between them, spreading his jacket to the sides to cover Meg as much as he could. “Dean, it isn’t what it looks like.”

“You’ve got no idea what it looks like. So I’ll run it down simple for you. You’re harbouring one of Crowley’s hired women,” Dean snapped. “One he was looking for. Think the term for her is…whore, isn’t it?”

Meg squirmed into the dress and buttoned the front of it so that her breasts were covered. She shoved by Castiel and Dean stepped back in surprise when he saw the damage done to her face.

“I’m no whore for Crowley. And it’s funny because Crowley didn’t care what I did till someone set him on me,” Meg growled. “I wonder who could do that.”

“If I did do that, it was to protect Cass. He doesn’t need your sort hanging around,” Dean shouted. Castiel stared at him, aware of a kernel of betrayal troubling him.

“I don’t need your protection. Meg had no ill intentions towards me.”

“Yeah, and how do you know that?” Dean demanded. “She tell you?”

“What would I need with him?” Meg countered. “He’s a reverend, for fuck’s sake.”

“And son of a high flying rich guy.” Dean took a few menacing steps towards her. “I knew your family. If it wasn’t for your daddy, my mom would still be alive!”

“And if it wasn’t for you and your brother, my daddy would still be alive!” she snarled.

Castiel grabbed her by the arm and pulled her back so that there was more space between them. In the tiny apartment, both he and Dean seemed to loom over her. “That’s enough!”

His softer voice, gravelly and furious, penetrated the fury between them and Meg turned away to finish buttoning herself. Dean ran his hand through his short-cropped hair and stalked toward the kitchen, removing the kettle from the hot plate absentmindedly. Castiel followed him and leaned against a cupboard.

“Dean, she had no where else to go.”

Dean rounded on him. “You’re letting her stay here? Why?”

Castiel looked at Meg as she turned and crossed her arms over her chest, glaring at them both. “Because she needs help.”

“That one doesn’t scare. She’s using you, Cass, for protection.”

“I’m aware of that. I am just not going to turn her away for needing protection.” Castiel started to turn away but Dean caught him by the shoulder and pushed hard.

“Don’t you walk away from me. You listen to me This is going to end bad. You get her out of here now, or so help me God I will do it for you.”

Castiel stepped close. “Are you threatening me, Dean?” he asked in a quiet, deadly voice. Meg stared at him in surprise. There was such a promise of violence that she wasn’t sure who would win this fight. For a calm, unassuming man in such a peaceful profession, Castiel could likely hold his own and do damage.

Dean stared at him for a long time but he was the first to look away. He looked at Meg and then at Castiel, drawing fast conclusions. “You…you better be kidding me.”

Meg rolled her eyes. “I’m fast but I’m not that easy,” she said.

“Keep it that way. I find out you mix him up in your shit and it’s over.” Dean pointed at her. “You move an inch outside this church and I’ll make sure you pay for it. The only place you’re going is out of town if you’re not going back to the other side of town.”

“Dean,” Castiel began but he was being shoved by. Annoyed, he grabbed Dean’s forearm, fingers digging into the leather jacket. “Listen to me.”

“Get out of my way. You want to let her stay that’s your business, but don’t come running to me when it goes down, we clear?” Dean yanked free and turned on Meg. “And you. You get him hurt and you answer to me.”

She saluted him with such mockery that he looked ready to hit her. “Got it, Captain Winchester.”

Dean muttered under his breath as he left, slamming doors on his way. Meg looked out the window and watched him peel out in his car, before she looked at Castiel. He looked troubled.

“What’s wrong?”

“He may have a point.”

“What makes him decide for you?” she asked, confused. Castiel had deflated a little with Dean leaving, as if he felt guilty.

“It’s not important. I’m closing the church for the evening. You’ll be fine?”

“Peachy.” Meg followed him to the door and leaned against the frame as he turned toward her, fixing his jacket again. “Clarence?”

He stepped closer to see her better in the dim light. Meg reached out and fixed his tie knot for him.

“Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”

“I only hope I don’t regret it,” he admitted and she tried to smile.

“I hope so too. Goodnight,” Meg said as she stepped backward. He relaxed, needing that distance between them.

Castiel nodded. “Goodnight.” He waited, as usual, to hear her lock being turned in the battered door before he left for the night. He knew he couldn’t follow Dean. When his friend was in a temper, it was better to let him cool off. Castiel was almost tempted to go back and see if Meg would like to walk through the rear meadow but he stopped himself. The thought was absurd. Meg was there for protection, not for such silly things. He didn’t like where those thoughts were going so he packed up his truck and headed down the street, to a bed calling his name. Still, he couldn’t resist looking through his rear view at the now dark church.

 


	9. Shake ‘Em On Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For helping Meg, Castiel takes a punishment he is sure he can handle. But Meg isn't prepared for what the sight of it does to her own emotions.

He was being followed. Castiel was aware of it the moment he crossed the line from uptown and headed towards the bakery on West Street a week later. He was taking a donation to a poor family that lived above the tiny shop and thought, for a moment, to get something as a peace offering to Dean and Sam for their evening meal. Why he had to apologize, he wasn’t sure, but it was clear they expected him to and he was their friend. A decent pie seemed to be in order.

As he parked his truck in a spot and headed out, Castiel glanced left and saw that two men were standing close by. They made no secret they were watching him and he clenched his hand into a fist, crumpling the charity envelope. Old habits died hard and he suddenly wished he was carrying a firearm. It was starting to turn to dusk already and if he wanted to make it to the salvage yard before the Winchesters left for home.

When he finished delivering the donation and headed down to the street again, the two men were still there but were now reading newspapers as they leaned against light posts. Castiel fixed his coat and headed left up the store fronts, nodding to a few that recognized him as the replacement but he kept moving. He could hear the footsteps behind him.

Turning left abruptly, he crossed the street into a dizzy array of vehicles and then into a tiny soda shop. The door jangled as he let himself in and he pressed against a counter, watching the street as casually as he could. The two men went by and he breathed a sigh of relief.

“Mr. Shurley?” the young voice startled him and he turned to see Kevin standing there, clutching a book on advanced mathematics. In a town like Harrow, Castiel knew his sudden appearance would make some gossip but Kevin wouldn’t be the one to do it. “Is something wrong?”

“I…I was just looking for some refreshment,” Castiel said, taking a seat on a bar stool. On Thursday evenings, the shop wasn’t packed and his presence made the few teenagers immediately straighten up so they were no longer holding hands. The music covered their conversations but he knew they were quieting down.

Kevin fidgeted, fixing his crisp white collar. “Oh. Sure. I’ll get you a soda on the house.”

Castiel nodded his thanks and stared at the counter, hoping to appear unassuming. A sudden presence beside him made him stiffen a little.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Sam asked as he dropped into the stool next to him. His hair was slicked back from his forehead and he grinned cheekily at his friend. Castiel relaxed at the easy-going way Sam was acting. Maybe at least one Winchester wasn’t upset with him.

“Getting a soda. It has been a long day.”

“Sure.” Sam looked up at Kevin. “One for me too.”

Kevin cracked two bottles of root beer and slipped them over the counter with chilled glasses. As Castiel poured his drink, he was aware of Sam watching him.

“You know, Dean’s been grumbling about you for a while now.”

“I can imagine he told you what happened?”

“The gist of it. You really hiding Meg Masters up there?” Sam asked.

“Well, yes. It is temporary though.”

“Yeah, but why?” Sam demanded before taking a sip. “You barely knew her before the war. You might as well be two different species, you know.”

“I believe she is searching for something. The way we all are. The more I learn about her, the more I wonder if perhaps we aren’t so different.” Castiel rubbed at his tired face and wished he could just go home and sleep. “Sam, she came to me badly beaten and with no where else to go. What would you have done?”

Sam stared at his glass. “Same thing as you probably. Dean’s a hard ass but even he wouldn’t have let her go back. Old grudges die hard though and you know it. You can’t just expect Dean to be okay with her.”

“I know. It is why she is my responsibility. Not yours.”

“You’re part of the company, Cass. I’ll help you if I can. What’s the plan?”

Unlike his brother, Sam assumed correctly that Castiel had a plan and it pleased him. Castiel opened his mouth to answer but noticed the slim brunette coming in, her vivacious red polka dot dress swirling around her knees. She teetered on dangerously high heels. Ruby spotted them immediately and ignored the whistles as she went to plunk herself down next to Sam, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

“Buy a girl a drink?” she asked.

“Hi, Ruby.” Sam nodded to Kevin who slid her her a full glass. “What’s the word?”

“Nothing much. You haven’t been to see me lately.”

“Busy. Dean’s up north at a mining company that needed some help with gangsters so I’m running Bobby’s errands down here.” Sam sounded disgruntled over it. “He didn’t want my help.”

“Well, his loss is my gain,” Ruby purred. She then looked at Castiel, surprise etched across her pretty face. “Father Shurley?”

“Ah, actually you can address me as Mr. Shurley. It would be more correct. Father is more…Catholic,” Castiel corrected and noticed how she nodded with complete disinterest.

“Sure thing.” She squeezed between them suddenly and lowered his voice. “Would you like to come out with us tonight?”

“We’re going out?” Sam asked.

“Thought it would be fun.” Ruby’s brown eyes twinkled and she fixed the look on Castiel. “Never been out with a man like you. Could be a blast.”

“I’m surprised,” Sam groused but Castiel shook his head.

“No, thank you.”

“Polite too. So rare,” Ruby teased and she nudged him over so that she could sit easier between them without perching on Sam’s lap. “I’m not working tonight. Mother says I earned rest since I’ve been pulling extra in when she asks.”

When her thigh bumped his, Castiel knew better than to squirm. Ruby gave him a wry look as if she sensed his discomfort but he ignored her. He was so used to Meg’s ribald teasing that Ruby’s barely affected him.

“What’s got her in a fuss?” Sam asked. Ruby missed the deliberate blandness in his voice but so used to Sam was Castiel that he began to listen in. Ruby’s profession didn’t seem to bother Sam all that much though Castiel picked up that they weren’t actually sleeping together much, if at all.

“My sister went missing after she was, uh, disciplined.” Ruby gestured around the soda shop. “Who knows where she went? Rumour was she skipped town.”

“Yeah?” Sam began to rub her hand with his as Castiel continued to calmly drink his soda. “What else?”

Ruby coyly looked at Castiel.

“He’s fine.”

“With streetwalkers?” she asked incredulously.

“Trust me, in the war we saw worse. Come on, Ruby, I’m dying for some gossip,” Sam muttered, bringing his mouth close to her ear. She shivered and hearing her gasp Castiel kept his eyes on his drink.

“Mom thinks she’s hiding out somewhere in town. She won’t let her just leave, you know. We’re family.” She squirmed closer to Sam and tucked her arm in his. “Crowley is helping out even.”

Sam glanced over her dark head to Castiel and the look in his eye warned him. He could only get so much information from Ruby before she became suspicious.

“How about you and I go out tonight?” she offered to Sam. “I’m dying to see that matinee of Lugosi’s movie.”

Castiel gathered his hat and coat and stood, putting a few nickels on the counter. “I’ll be seeing you around, Sam. Ruby, it was a pleasure to meet you.”

She grinned. “Likewise I’m sure.”

Sam nodded to him as he left and Castiel put his hat on and drew his coat over his shoulders. Ruby turned the whole of her attention on Sam but Castiel noticed the distance Sam maintained with her. Whatever she was up to, Sam was very aware.

The streets were darkening as Castiel walked back to his pick-up, fumbling in his pocket for his keys. He passed a corner when a hand reached out and snagged him by his collar, hauling him into an alleyway. Thrown backwards, Castiel hit the brick wall with a thump and stars swam in his vision as he stared at the four men surrounding him. They were all dressed like gangsters, smelling of strong after shave and liquor, and as one moved forward, he rubbed the back of his head with a frown.

“Hello, darling.” The smallest man came to the forefront. “I trust you know who I am?”

“Should I?” Castiel said though he knew exactly who this little man could be. Crowley glared at him.

“Fergus Crowley. Head of operations here in Harrow. And you are Castiel Shurley, I know. Son of Charles and Olivia, temporary reverend, war hero, etcetera etcetera, blah blah blah,” Crowley waved his hand in the air, “all meaningless.”

Castiel eyed the two men coming closer. “What can I do for you?”

“I’m looking for someone that was supposed to skip town but I’m thinking she is hiding around here somewhere in Harrow.” Crowley flicked imaginary lint from his dark jacket and smiled at Castiel. “Do you know a Meg Masters?”

Castiel schooled his face to an impassive mask. “Doesn’t ring a bell.”

“No? Gorgeous little thing. A whore of course but pretty. Dark hair, little more than a sprite?” Crowley held up his hand to demonstrate Meg’s height. “I heard she was hanging around your church.”

“I see many people. If she came by, she was of no importance to me.” Castiel fixed his rumpled collar. “Sorry I can’t help you.”

He made to move by but was stopped by one of the men.

“I don’t like to accuse anyone of lying but I know liars. You know where she went, don’t you?” Crowley asked. Castiel stared at him. “Bobby Singer is a good liar but I can tell when that gorgeous man isn’t honest. Only reason I’m looking for the poppet is because her mother won’t shut up about it.” He shrugged. “And she is worth some money, with what she knows.”

“If I did know where she was, I wouldn’t tell you, Mr. Crowley. I don’t deal with men of your reputation.” Castiel eyed the men closing in on him. “Besides, why would I keep her around?”

“Good point. But maybe, if you won’t deal with me now, you could do with some schooling?” Crowley snapped his fingers and Castiel watched as the three men began to crowd in.

He took the first hit square on the jaw and went back into the wall, his hat falling from his head. Castiel wiped at his mouth, tasting blood, and looked up at Crowley.

“Really?” he asked, getting to his feet.

“Make it fun for the boys, would you?” Crowley encouraged.

Castiel waited until the larger of the three men went for his throat before he moved. Slamming his elbow into the hooked nose, he heard a satisfying crunch of bone beneath the impact and spun around to grab the other man throwing himself at him. Castiel grappled with him, digging his hands into the meat of his shoulders and wrenching him into a firm hold. He heard the heavy footsteps and pivoted right, slamming his foot into the attacker’s stomach. He took another blow to the cheek and grunted as he squirmed with the other man until he had him turned around. Castiel jerked his knee up and sent him down to the alley floor howling in pain and he dropped him with a satisfied grin.

Before he could move another step, he was cracked upside the skull with the butt of a handgun. Head ricocheting with pain, he staggered back and took the brunt of a hit to his jaw in a vicious uppercut. It sent him sprawling into trashcans and he had to look through a haze of pain to see Crowley tucking his gun away.

“Make it fast, would you? Just to teach him a quick lesson on being helpful,” he told his men. They picked themselves up and started for Castiel, who made ready to leap for them.

Times like this, he wished he still carried a knife on him.

#

Meg sat on the front porch of the church, feet curled close beneath her thighs. She couldn’t chance a light and sat in darkness, comfortably pleased with herself. The apartment was small but for now it was hers and so was the hot water. For the first time in years she’d had a hot bath and she still felt deliciously warm. Now she was drinking the strongest coffee she’d ever made as she let her hair dry under the overhang, enjoying the soft patter of rain on the tin roof as she cradled the cracked ceramic cup.

For a moment, she nearly believed she deserved this slice of peace.

Tucking her feet up further beneath the heavy skirt, Meg sipped her coffee and watched the street in the distance. She was slowly, steadily, becoming bored with this hiding business but for a strange reason she didn’t understand, she didn’t want to ruin it just yet. Castiel had only been kind to her and his expectations were so little that Meg resorted to staying. Still, would it have killed him to do more than play checkers with her?

Meg grinned. Checkers had ended so well last time after all. She wasn’t sure if she enjoyed his nervousness or his attempts at being chaste more. Meg wasn’t even sure why she cared that he was so careful around her, only that she liked that he seemed to genuinely enjoy being around her when he let his guard down.

Dying for a drink, Meg wondered if the service wine was locked up. A flicker of headlights caught her attention and she peered down the dark drive as a pick-up truck passed slowly. It was weaving on the road in slow tracks and Meg rose a little off the porch to get a better look.

The bright relief of the house across the road was just enough to let her see Castiel leaning over his steering wheel. Meg frowned. She nearly thought he was drunk except he didn’t really drink to her knowledge. Deciding it wouldn’t hurt, she stuffed her feet back into her shoes and hopped off the porch to investigate. She stuck to the tree line to watch as Castiel drove down to the tiny bungalow he rented. He swerved so violently that he crunched into his mailbox and barely managed to get up the drive even halfway.

Meg waited patiently but it was clear he was taking his time getting out of his truck. Giving a quick glance back at the church, she chewed on the thought of just going back in to listen to the radio. Castiel wouldn’t want her interference.

But darn it, now she was curious. Meg walked gingerly over the muddy road, covering her head as the rain began to hit harder, and was glad of the darkness as she went down the road. Castiel would be upset if he saw her out like this.

She rounded his drive and saw he had his door open. He was slumped in the bench seat of the truck, head lolling to the side. Meg crept up, ready to spring back to the church if she had to, and peered in at him.

“Shit, Castiel, what happened to you?” she asked when he didn’t move.

The normally calm man jumped at the sound of her voice and turned his face toward her. Meg stared. Bruises lined his jaw and he had the start of a shiner under one eye, a cut on his cheek. His shirt was ripped at the collar over one shoulder, his coat wrecked as well, and she saw a line of discolouration that ran from neck to shoulder in the skin exposed to the moonlight. He looked so rumpled and out of sorts that Meg wasn’t sure if he was even aware of her.

“Clarence?” she asked.

He winced. “Meg.”

“Need help?”

He closed his eyes and let her take his arm. “Thank you.”

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up,” Meg murmured as she helped him out of the truck, slinging his arm across her shoulders.

 


	10. You Don’t have to Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As she helps him recover from his injuries, Meg and Castiel reach a moment that neither can turn away from.

The bungalow was as sparse as the church offices but there was a different feeling that came with it. Its meagre decorations had nothing to do with lack of care. Instead, it was comfortably stripped down to bare essentials. A kitchen, a living room, and two bedrooms from what she could see. Small but cozy, painted in mute colours with a few items here and there to make it personal. It suited him, Meg supposed as she flicked on a few lamps as they made their way into the living room.

Knocking a pile of books and discarded shirts off the sofa, Meg helped Castiel sink into it and he fell back immediately, only to lurch back up with a hiss. She stood at his feet and frowned at his expression. “What’s wrong?”

“Slice on my shoulder,” he explained. “There’s a med kit in the cupboard. Bottom shelf.”

Meg turned and went to retrieve it, taking in the knick knacks that Castiel had collected. A dusty record player, stacks of books on a low shelf, pictures of his family, but nothing that spoke of religion or his time in the war. Unusual, she thought as she poked her head into the cupboard and found the large case. Army issue, she noticed as she slung it over her shoulder and headed back.

Castiel was removing his ruined coat and suit jacket, wincing as he did so, and Meg chewed on her lower lip as she eyed the dirty white shirt.

“You look like you had good fight,” she commented as she set the kit on the coffee table and headed to the kitchen.

“You could say that,” he said and she heard him fumbling around as she filled a pitcher of water and grabbed a few glasses from his sink. Meg headed back to find him trying to remove his shirt from one shoulder. As she poured a glass for him, she eyed the large bruise on his cheek.

“Anyone I know?”

“Likely.” He made a face as the shirt caught on his wound. “It was bad timing.”

“I’ll say.” She watched him struggle for a moment before sighing, grabbing a pair of scissors from the kit. “Here. Let me help.” He jerked the shirt closed and she chuckled as she took a seat beside him and handed him the water. “Trust me, I’ve seen it all before.”

Grudgingly, he let her cut his shirt with surprisingly gentle movements and he watched her over the rim of the glass as he took a long drink. He swished it in his mouth before swallowing and Meg caught his eye as she finished slicing the shirt up the side. She removed the shirt in patches, her mouth twisted in a scowl when it caught on an abrasion.

“This looks like gravel burn,” she said as she took in the wound that ran from his shoulder to his ribs. “You hit the dirt, huh?”

“Among other things.”

Meg took quick glances at his naked torso, noticing old bullet and knife scars that didn’t match with his usually reserved manner. It looked like he had been in more than a few scraps and not all of it had likely been due to the war. She tossed the ruined shirt to the floor and scooted closer until her thigh pressed to his. Though she heard his breathing turn shallow, Castiel kept his attention on the wall across from them and Meg concerned herself with cleaning the abrasions.

“So who was it?” she asked as she rummaged for a sponge. Shrugging, she dunked it into the pitcher and began to gently bathe the wounds and bruises.

“Crowley’s men.”

She stopped and stared at his profile. “What the hell are you doing fighting them?” Meg demanded.

“I didn’t go looking for a fight, if that is what you’re asking.” He reached into the kit and plucked out a tin of salve for her. Meg cleaned the wounds with more vigour than she intended, causing him to wince in pain, and she sighed when he tried to pull away.

“Don’t be such a baby, hold still,” Meg snapped. Groaning, he did as ordered and held himself ridged as a soldier while she finished with the worst of the abrasions. “I should wrap these, I guess. How’s your face?”

He made a muffled sound as she took his chin in her hand and made him look at her. She took in the tiny bit of a shiner, the bruising and cut on his cheek, and the split in his lower lip. Meg’s own fading bruises reflected back at her in the depths of his eyes and his suddenly interested look made her uncomfortable. She let him go as if scalded and shook her head.

“Well. You’re still pretty, I guess.” She grabbed the gauze and fumbled with it. “Why were you tussling with Crowley’s men then?”

“They were looking for you. When I didn’t give them the answers they wanted, they decided to teach me a lesson.”

“I hope you gave them what-for.”

“I did until Crowley hit me from behind with a gun,” he admitted.

“Sounds about right for him. I’m surprised he bothered. Lil must be on his case.”

“He didn’t seem very enthusiastic,” Castiel said. “Even when they were done, he didn’t exactly press.”

“I’m almost insulted,” Meg said as she began to patch a cut on his shoulder that looked angry already. A bit of dirt still clung to his skin and she began to clean it once more, using the salve to help soap the area. The sponge drifted over his shoulder and he winced as the icy water hit a sensitive bruise. Meg glanced at him. “Not that bad, right?” she asked.

“I’m fine,” he gritted through clenched teeth. He was aware of her look but he didn’t try to cover up.

Meg’s eyes trailed over his lean torso, over the ridges of scars that ran over his rib cage. “Whoever patched you up before did a shitty job, Clarence. What was her name?”

“April Kelly…she wasn’t very gentle, no. She was part of a MASH unit and put in charge of me after an attack. But it was in the field. Front line. The camp was in the middle of being mortared and maybe she was rushed.”

“Nurse, I guess?” Meg asked as she gestured at the old knife wound on his shoulder. It was slightly gnarled.

“Right.” He twisted a little and handed her the gauze again so that she could wrap his shoulder. Meg stretched it out and he lifted his arm just enough for her to tuck the gauze safely between his arm and armpit and wrap it up over his shoulder.

“Shame. Bet you were a classy piece before.”

Castiel thought there was a compliment in there but still he shook his head. “Never.”

“You sure?”

“I doubt you’d call me classy normally,” he commented dryly, grunting when she tugged on the gauze.

“Don’t be so sure.” Meg leaned in and he felt her breath on his face as she peered at the cut under his eye. With the sponge rinsed out and damp, she bathed his face next and he leaned into her touch, the cold soothing the heat of the punches he’d suffered. Meg said nothing to his actions, merely pressed the sponge and wiped until he was reasonably clean. Castiel took in a deep breath when he felt her breasts against his arm and focussed on the wall again to try to ignore her closeness. Meg was more concerned with getting his bruises bathed. She dabbed salve on the final cut and looked at him, trying to decide what to do next. His silence was uncomfortable.

“You’ve got okay taste in AKs,” she blurted out. He looked at her from the corner of his eye.

“That…” He shrugged. “I hung out with the Winchesters as boys a lot before I went to the war. I had to fit in. Dean inherited his car after his father died in the beginning of the war and I couldn’t ride with them forever.”

“Sure.” Meg tightened the ribbon of gauze around his shoulder. “Try that.”

He straightened up and twisted his shoulder left and right. “Seems decent. I can move.”

“Good thing. I’m no nurse, you know.” She turned and tossed the gauze off the couch before sitting back and smoothing her skirt over her legs.

“How’d you get so good at this?” he asked and she grinned.

“My dad was a hell raiser,” she said without elaborating and he stared at her.

“I’m…sorry…I understand that he was killed.”

Meg looked away. “It happens. I was a kid. Been fast ever since.”

Castiel knew from rumours that it had happened when she was sixteen. From what he’d heard…the local gang and the draft dodgers had made things worse for her. Something shuttered up inside Meg whenever he tried to probe into her past and he wondered why. Reaching out, he put his hand on her cheek. “It shouldn’t have happened. No child should lose their parent.”

She didn’t duck from his touch like she usually did. “That a reverend talking? Or good old Castiel?”

“Both.” He smiled and smoothed his thumb down the apple of her cheek. She sucked in a breath and he held his own, aware of a tension suddenly building that he’d felt before. Meg’s dark eyes darted left and her head turned a little away.

“What are you staring at me for?” she demanded though she didn’t pull away. Castiel was barely aware of his own actions as he cupped her face in his hands and turned her back toward him. His blue eyes searched her face and he waited until she met his eyes before he spoke.

“You’re very beautiful.”

Her eyes sparkled with undisguised pleasure before she hid it with a saucy grin and an exaggerated roll of the eyes. “No, I’m not. Not really. I’m real gone.”

“I still find you beautiful.” He realized he’d blurted that out and how it might sound. “I’m… I’m sorry.” Ruffled, he dropped his hands away from her. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

He was about to grab a shirt when Meg touched his bruised shoulder. “Maybe you just got a knock on the head,” she said softly as she inspected the gauze covering.

Castiel watched her, wary as a cat. “Maybe.”

Meg leaned back to check how the gauze lined up over the ridge of his shoulder and then her eyes turned back to him. Her knees nudged his as she scooted forward and his hands flexed on his thighs. Catching the movement, she raised a brow. “Maybe not,” she decided, daring him now with just a look.

He leaned in at the same time she did, his eyes narrowed though hers widened in surprise that he did so. His hand reached up to cup her by the back of the head and he closed the distance until their lips met tentatively. It wasn’t the bruising kiss she had planted on him in the apartment. His touch was explorative and light.

Meg nearly recoiled at the gentle way he explored her lips with his but his grip tightened a little on her hair and he held her still. Her eyes opened to watch his face during the soft contact as she tilted her head a little and tried to deepen the kiss. With his eyes still closed, he held her back and when she tried again he pulled away. Meg stared at him as he opened his eyes and cracked a smile at her.

“I won’t hurt you,” he whispered. The fingers in her hair flexed and began to comb gently through that dark tresses that had come out from her loose braid.

“Maybe I’ll hurt you,” she countered. “I’m no good, remember?”

He let her go completely and tilted his head as she stood up and brushed her skirt down. Meg raised a hand to her mouth, felt the smudge of her lipstick and the sticky heat of his mouth on hers still, and she looked aside for her bag. She snatched up his shirt and held it before her chest, strangely vulnerable as he continued to stare at her.

“I should go.”

“Probably.” He stood up and instantly she was reminded just how tall he was as he towered over her while she was still in her heels. Her eyes went from his navel to his eyes in a slow track that had him looking at her strangely. Meg shook her head and backed up a step into the coffee table as she held out the shirt to him. As he slipped it back on, reaching for the buttons, Meg saw the string on the gauze unwinding and reached out.

“Hold still.” She tugged on the ends and fixed it with a knot. Satisfied he wasn’t about to fall apart, Meg reached between them and patted his chest. “Good as new. I’m not half bad at this. Maybe I should be a nurse after all.” Meg looked up to see him watching her, his gaze intent on her face so much that she nearly twitched. “My lipstick smudged?”

“A bit.” He shook his head. “Meg…”

“I’ll get gone.” She nodded. “I need to go.”

“You already said that,” he said patiently. He moved slowly, shirt still gaping open, and Meg resisted the urge to back up as he stepped into her space.

Castiel seemed unsure of what to do for a moment, his eyes darting over her face. His hand raised slowly so that his fingers grazed her chin before he dipped his head and brushed her lips with his, his breath exhaling into her mouth. Meg swayed in surprise but raised her face upward to take his kiss as he bent down and slanted his mouth over hers. Unused to such a gentle approach, Meg moved forward a step until she could feel the heat of his skin through her blouse as his other arm snaked around her waist and tucked her in closer. She searched his mouth hungrily, allowing the kiss to swamp her senses as Castiel returned it passionately, his hand squeezing her hip gently as he twisted a little on his feet. His other hand slipped along her shoulders to the back of her neck and his fingers began to twist within her thick braid.

Meg moved back, putting her hands on his chest.

“We shouldn’t do this,” Castiel muttered. “This…this might…”

He didn’t let her go but he didn’t pull her in. The difference between the johns just a few months ago and him was startling and Meg was suddenly, for the first time in a long time, very unsure. She actually cared about what she was about to do and the realization made her embarrassed.

“I know. I’ll ruin you,” she said. “You’re… you’re a good man, Castiel. Even I can see that. A guy like you shouldn’t let a whore destroy his faith.” No matter how she was told to, she thought glumly. She had never experienced guilt before and it seemed she felt it more and more often the longer she was around him.

He smiled a little crookedly. “I think you’re more than a prostitute, Meg.”

She arched her brow. “I’m thinking you’re blind, angel. Don’t paint over my sins.”

“Your sins make you what you are, the way my past makes me what I am now.” The hand on her hip slid up her ribcage, where he could feel her pounding heart. “The way that I am more than a reverend right now, you’re more than a prostitute.”

Meg closed her eyes. “You don’t know that.”

“No I don’t.” His fingers slid along her neck to her collar, then up her skin to cup her cheek. “But I have faith.”

Her eyes opened and she stared at him. “Faith isn’t enough sometimes.”

Castiel looked over her head and nodded. “I know.”

When he looked back down at her, Meg stepped into his body and raised her hands up to his nape. “Show me to have faith,” she whispered. “I haven’t felt it in so long.”

He peered down his nose at her with a vague look.

“It’s a step you can’t take back,” she continued. Knowing she was asking for his consent, knowing she wanted to give hers, made her stomach turn like butterflies. Castiel nodded and slid his thumb against her cheek.

“It’s maybe worth it,” he said and he ducked his head to kiss her again, stealing the air from her lungs with his quickness. Meg moaned and cradled his head with her arm as she stood on her toes to get more of his mouth, her slim body pressed against his. She could feel his skin radiating heat as she slid herself up his body, one leg slipping around his. They twisted slightly and his hand ran up her back between her shoulder blades. She made a sound when he grazed an old bruise and her nails trailed over his shoulder.

Castiel hissed in a breath when her hands grazed the gauzed wound and she chuckled.

“Go easy, huh?” she asked as she reached for his shirt and pushed it over his shoulders. Castiel let it flutter to the ground and stared down at it to avoid her curious look.

“I…” He swallowed. “I’ve never done this before.”

“Really? I thought you soldiers were so busy they had to make all those VD films.”

Her eyes widened when he finally looked at her with a bit of embarrassment. “I haven’t wanted to before.”

Meg smiled. “You’re unreal, Clarence.”

The slang made him frown but Meg pulled him back down for another kiss, devouring his mouth until he finally moaned and began to push back a little, reaching for the pins in her hair. He had just snagged the last one when she pushed into him and forced him onto the couch. She reached for her skirt and pulled it up over her knees before sliding onto his lap. Castiel stared up at her with open wonder as her wavy hair cascaded around her face and highlighted her beauty.

Meg leaned back and took his hands in hers, leading them to her legs. “What?”

“You were worth waiting all these years for,” he said. His fingers slid up her hose to her garters and she shivered, hoping those gorgeous fingers would move further. But he abandoned his caress to cup her face between his palms.

“You don’t need to sweet talk me,” she said. “I’m not backing down if you’re not.”

He rubbed his thumb across her lower lip. “What do I do? You’re very nervous.”

“I am not,” Meg said, sitting back and crossing her arms over her chest. He grinned at her insolence. “I’m no kitten in this.”

Castiel sat forward and pressed a chaste kiss against her throat. Meg shuddered as he began to trail the kisses up her neck, guessing that she liked it. “Maybe you could…teach me what you like,” he muttered between kisses.

“I…” Meg’s eyes nearly rolled back in her head as he found a sensitive spot just below her ear. He sensed her pleasure as he lingered on the area, using his teeth and tongue to tease her. She shuddered again and her hand came to his hair, fingers tightening in the strands.

“Meg?” he prodded, waiting on an answer.

“No one’s ever asked that.”

He made a soft sound against her neck that sounded suspiciously like a chuckle. “Same for me.”

She went to roll her eyes but he tugged on her earlobe next with his teeth and her entire body clenched with desire. “You’re gonna be so bad for me,” she whispered. “Spoil me for all the others.”

“Let’s hope,” he said but he sounded so serious that Meg nearly pulled away completely. His hands tightened on her hips and held her steady. For the first time, Meg found herself unsure of how to proceed with this. She’d had virginal men before, nervous men who had just wanted it over with. But that had been rushed and this… this felt different. This was something out of her element and she didn’t like the uneasy feeling settling in her spine over it.

Castiel pulled back and stared up into her face. “Something wrong?”

“Only that this tops the list of sins I’ve committed,” she muttered in annoyance.

“I’m not much better,” he pointed out. “I have more to lose doing this than you realize.”

“Yeah, like what?” she challenged. Castiel cupped her by the back of the head and seemed about to answer but instead he drew her downward. She moaned as he kissed her hard, his inexperience not as obvious as his passion. Meg in comparison felt almost cold in the knowledge that between the two of them, she had too much experience with sex and not enough with this gentleness he was trying to show her. She had thought to seduce him, weeks ago, in a rough tumble just for kicks.

What the hell was happening?

Her legs tightened on either side of his hips and she settled more firmly into his lap. For a man with religious leanings, Meg thought, he knew how to kiss like he meant it. She splayed her hands across his chest and skimmed her nails across his skin, feeling him jerk and press up into her as his arm wrapped around her back. When she pulled back, he was staring at her with such unguarded interest that she decided to see if she could derail him a little.

Reaching up, she tugged the oversized blouse out of her skirt and started to unbutton it, but his hands brushed hers aside and slipped the pearl buttons free. Meg watched his expression change to arousal as he pushed the shirt over her shoulders, exposing her bare breasts. Leading his mouth back to her, she kissed him as she shrugged the blouse off and proceeded to undo the clasp on her skirt. His hands ran down her bare back to her feet and he tugged her heels off for her before sliding his fingers up the back of her thighs. Meg pressed him back against the cushions and pressed her mouth over his again, barely leaving any room between them as he shifted forward and kissed her harder. She groaned when she felt his hand slide up her ribcage to her breast. He broke the kiss to lower his head and press his mouth to the tip of her nipple, causing her to stutter out a sigh and grin at him.

“You said you hadn’t done this before,” she said as she ran her hand through his hair. He shrugged again and gave her a tentative lick that caused her nipple to tighten to a peak.

“I’m not naive. I’ve read books.”

“Books?” Meg asked as she wriggled out of his lap. Castiel stared up at her as she shimmied out of her skirt and panties without any hesitation. The sight of her naked caused him to swallow loudly, his hands clenching tight on the sofa cushion.

“Though I’m suddenly feeling very unprepared,” he admitted. Meg grinned and ran her hand up her stomach to her neck, ruffling her hair and pulling it over her shoulder to hide one breast. Bending at the waist, she reached into the med kit and pulled out an issued condom packet, tossing it at him. Castiel made an odd sound that made her giggle. She winked seductively and crooked her finger at him as she slowly walked backward.

“Don’t worry, Clarence,” Meg said as she turned away and walked towards his open bedroom, “I’ll be patient with you.”

She glanced over her shoulder and her saucy grin pulled him after her like a magnet. He moved off the sofa, cradling his still sore side, and followed her to the bedroom. Castiel’s nervousness was evaporating the more he saw Meg’s proud nudity, the way she seemed to be ready to take charge, and he leaned up against the door frame to force himself to calm down a little. He had forgotten all about his soreness and the bruises as he watched Meg run her fingers over his mattress. Feeling awkward and needing a distraction, he toed off his shoes and stripped off his socks when he realized he was still wearing them.

She wandered his bedroom, rubbing her arms against the chill, and paused at the window to glance through the curtains. Castiel moved then, approaching her quietly, and came to stand behind her. Meg leaned back into him and he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her into his embrace until she relaxed completely. Her head lolled on his shoulder and she sighed as he dropped a kiss to her neck.

Her body felt warm and pliant beneath his hands but as his hand drifted down her belly, she pulled away a little. Meg turned and put her hands between them, unbuckling his belt and pulling down his trousers until they fell to the floor. Castiel put his mouth to her forehead and exhaled sharply when she ran her hands over his hipbones and then pulled on the waist of his boxers so that they fell as well.

She looked up at him seductively. “Fine?” she asked as she pressed closer, her hips pushing into his. The softness of her made him want to touch even more, his hands moving between them to cup her breasts. Castiel touched and caressed the way he might something fragile and let her manoeuvre him backward a few steps while he was distracted. Meg grinned at him. “Cass? Are you fine?”

“Fine,” he agreed and he let her push him onto the bed. He lay back and watched her as she followed him down. Meg stretched out beside him, her fingers dancing over his hips and stomach with firm strokes. When he relaxed, she began to rub her palm over his groin until he began pushing into her hand, his eyes closed against what he was feeling. Meg took hold of his cock in one hand and reached between her legs with her other, and he opened his eyes at her low groan. He watched as she teased herself for a long few minutes and Meg stroked him at the same time with sure touches that had him grasping the bedsheets tight between his fingers. It felt incredible and he didn’t want her to stop. His body ached and the tension was incredible, pooling deep in his belly and threatening to explode.

When he moaned louder, she withdrew her fingers from her body and slipped the wet palm of her hand along his cock. Castiel felt how close he was and began to recite hymnals in his head, commandments that should have keeping his moral compass straight, teachings he had retained. But the entirety of the world seemed to be set in the way she touched him and he trembled violently when she kissed along his unshaven jaw.

“You can touch me,” she muttered and she moved so that she was lying half atop him, leg sliding between his. Castiel turned his head and took her mouth with his lips again, letting her tongue stroke over his as she moved closer. He drew his hand over her breast and into her hair, tugging so that she came closer. That aching sensation in his side and shoulder was now just a dull memory and he stroked what skin he could reach, each patch causing a fracture in his self-control.

Meg suddenly pressed her hand into his other palm and took the condom from his fingers. She continued distracting him with her kiss though he felt her slipping the rubber onto him. It was a strange sensation that nearly had him trying to see what was happening but Meg then raised up on her elbows and deepened the kiss, her breasts pushing into his chest so that he felt the hardness of her nipples. He curled his arms over her back and held her steady as she straddled his hips and pressed herself into him. Unable to stop, he turned her beneath him and braced his arms over her head.

With her eyes half-closed and lips parted, her face was so quiet that he thought for sure she wasn’t feeling the same as he was. Then she leaned up and kissed him, running her hand down his back to his hip as she raised her hips up to his and helped him slip inside her. The effect made him break the kiss immediately. He groaned and lowered his head to her shoulder, his mouth pressing against her throat as he took in a deep, shuddering breath. Meg put her hand in his hair and held him steady against her neck, whispering low words he didn’t really hear as she shifted beneath him. Then she began to gently push on the small of his back.

Compelled to move, he raised up on an elbow and began to thrust into her carefully. It was sin and it was wonderful, he realized and he chased it without a thought. As they moved together, Meg’s sleek softness supporting his harder body, Castiel became single-minded. Everything seemed to revolve around the woman in his arms. His world centred on the feel of her mouth touching his ear and cheek, the clenching heat between them, the whisper of her words and the smell of her clean skin. Even the throbbing ache of his fight earlier was gone, replaced by a rising tension and desperate euphoria he needed to feel over and over again.

Castiel lifted his head and pressed his forehead against hers, a soft groan escaping him as he deepened his thrusts further, until his hips were flush against hers and he felt her heels digging into the back of his thighs. With Meg was making faint sounds beneath him, the slide of slick skin on skin, and the pull of her body contracting around him with each thrust, he lost his focus and grasped her hip tighter with one hand. They rolled on the bed together, until finally he pressed her back down and began to move harder and faster, until he heard her gasps beginning to increase. It was coming too fast, he thought and he couldn’t stop himself. Meg lifted her mouth to his and kissed him, her hand disappearing between them. He wasn’t sure what she did but suddenly she cried out and her body tightened around him. The unexpected feeling made him moan and thrust one more time as he came, flooded with sensation that seemed to fly through him just as fast as it tried to leave.

They strained together for long moments, trying to make their ecstasy last and failing to grasp it tightly.

He sagged forward into her embrace, hips rolling into hers slowly, and Meg tightened her body around him again with a murmur. Dropping his head down, he pressed his face into her neck and whispered her name. Meg pressed an almost perfunctory kiss to his hair and slithered her legs from beneath him and he moaned as he slipped out of her body. She rolled him to his back and leaned over. Castiel kept his eyes closed as she took care of him and he heard the sound of something hitting the trash can by the bed, before Meg shifted again and leaned up on the headboard.

Without a word, he turned to his stomach and pressed his face to her breast as he pushed against her. The aches that now throbbed within had nothing to do with taking a beating and everything to do with what had just happened. Meg’s fingers came to his hair and began to stroke him the way she might a large pet. He took her silence as a good sign and let the warmth of her lull him to sleep. The first sleep he had had in weeks where no memories waited for him except for the fresh, vivid one of the woman in his arms.

#

It was early in the morning when he stirred again. Every muscle throbbed and his face felt more swollen than before, but the ache was pleasant and the swelling not the worst it could have been. His bound shoulder was stiff when he pushed up from his stomach and stared groggily at his alarm clock. It was so early that he groaned and put his hand out, intent on tugging a warm body into his.

Only to find that the bedsheets beside him were cold and the pillow gone. Frowning, he rubbed at his face and rolled to his left. It was a surprise when he saw Meg curled up in the old arm chair he kept in his bedroom, covered by a quilt and tucked into a tiny ball. Castiel frowned, wondering why she had moved. Meg murmured in her sleep and burrowed deep into her uncomfortable position.

He thought about going to her, scooping her up and taking her back to bed with him. But something held him in the bed, kept him from going to her. It wasn’t merely his own exhaustion and sore body. Something deeper made him turn over and put his back to her, fully aware of every breath and sound she made until he was so tired from remaining tense that he fell into a fitful sleep. A sleep where he dreamed of Meg again only this time she stood at the back of the church and he wasn’t sure how to reach her from the altar.

 


	11. Fools Rush In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after throws into bright relief what Castiel has risked to help Meg and the return of Zachariah forces him to make a decision.

Meg was half-awake when a firm hand touched her shoulder and gently shook her. Groaning, she buried her face into the back of the armchair and tried to ignore it. The hand pushed her hair out of her face and slipped along her jaw.

“Meg?” Castiel called. “You’re going to get sore like that.”

His voice startled her and she opened her eyes immediately to see him standing there, a cup of steaming coffee in his hand. He sat on the bed across from her and reached to hand her the mug. Meg cradled it close and let the fragrant scent wake her fully.

“What time is it?”

“Just after seven. I let you sleep.” He was dressed in plainclothes, looked freshly showered and shaved, and the sight was perplexing. If it wasn’t for the bruises that decorated his cheek and the shiner, it might have been as if the previous night had never happened. “I thought you’d like to move.”

Slowly, she uncurled herself from the chair and put her bare toes to the cold floor. “Thanks. Guess I was tired.”

Meg took a sip of coffee and watched him. He fidgeted and she could see him wanting to ask her questions, but he was restraining himself. Admirable.

“You slept on the chair,” he finally blurted out. Meg nodded. “Why?”

She sighed. “Seemed like a good idea at the time. Kind of regretting it now.” She rubbed her shoulder and neck for effect as she sat up, the quilt falling around her waist. Castiel immediately looked away but she ignored his discomfort as she wriggled her toes and yawned.

“You could have…slept with me,” he offered. “The bed would have been better.”

Meg took another sip, dark eyes on his averted profile. “Maybe. Just seemed the thing to do.”

He looked ready to push it but a knock at his front door made him sigh and stand up instead. “Stay here.”

Meg watched him close the door and heard him heading to the living room as she slipped from the chair. Clutching the quilt over her shoulders, she cracked the bedroom door open so she could see who had knocked. A large man, balding with grey hair and a an oddly smug smile upon his face, stood in the doorway, towering over the more lean Castiel. Meg recognized him from the distance as the reverend Castiel had replaced. They shook hands and Castiel stepped aside to let him in. Meg watched as they took seats in the living room, Castiel facing her.

“I’m pleased to see the church is still standing,” the big man commented.

“Of course, Mr. Hopper, why wouldn’t it be?” Castiel asked.

“No reason. I realize it is early but I made it into town just a few hours ago and decided to pay you a visit.” Zachariah leaned back and gestured at Castiel’s face. “You look a little rough around the edges, Castiel.”

Castiel rubbed at his bruised cheek and Meg saw that he was favouring that shoulder still. “I had some trouble in town. Case of mistaken identity.”

“Of course you did,” Zachariah said and there was something so oily about his voice that it made Meg nervous. “I haven’t stopped at the church yet but it looks fine from the outside. Paperwork is in order I trust. Though I have to ask about a concerned telegraph I received from Mrs. Night regarding your less-stringent moral beliefs.”

Castiel went rigid. “I have no use for bigots in the church,” he said.

“You invited people who are…unsavoury to the dignity of the church.” It was obvious that Zachariah wasn’t wasting time on pleasantries.

“Such as?”

“You relieved them of their signage, she said, which is their right and I had no objections. As well as admitting women of low moral standards.”

“Prostitutes,” Castiel stated. “They are still women. If they want to receive the charity of the church, then they should be treated with respect.”

His eyes darted upward and he caught Meg’s eye. She pulled back, ready to close the door, but he then looked back at the formal reverend.

“I was told to run the congregation as I saw fit. I did.”

“So you did. But I’m back now and more than capable of relieving it from your…dutiful hands,” Zachariah said. Meg saw Castiel’s shoulders slump a little but she wasn’t sure if it was from disappointment or relief.

“I have some things to move from the office and I will need to finish my report,” Castiel explained.

“You have the morning. After that, I will be sure to review what you did with the church council to see if we should rethink having you once more.” Zachariah stood and looked around the living room. “Perhaps you should rethink your calling if you cannot follow the rules, Castiel.”

Castiel looked beyond him and met Meg’s gaze again. “You may be right. I’ll leave the keys in the office.”

Quietly, she slipped away from the door and dressed quickly. She heard Zachariah leave and Castiel’s quiet footsteps as he moved around the house. She struggled with the pearl buttons on the blouse but her fingers wouldn’t cooperate. Castiel came in, saw her fighting with her shirt, and without a word brushed her hands aside to help her. Meg let him do so and watched his face.

“I’ll be out of the church before you can blink,” she said. “Might hop a train or something. Get out of here. If you could loan me a few bucks that is.”

“So you’re leaving then?” he asked as he slipped the pearls into the slots. His casual tone made her frown.

“Either that or go home.”

“True.” He finished the buttons and then stepped away to sit on the armchair. “Meg, about last night…”

“Oh damn,” she whispered. “I hope you’re not feeling guilty and are going to tell me you have to pray for the next ten years.”

“Strange, I don’t feel guilty. Though I should.” He smiled a little. “Is that wrong?”

Meg frowned at him but didn’t answer as she smoothed her skirt.

“I have an idea. I don’t want you to think that I am offering you this because of what happened last night.” He took a breath. “You might not like it but it would keep you safe and let you earn honest money.”

She stared at him. The temptation to earn money that was her own was strong. It had nothing to do with flying right but to have control once more. “What is it?”

#

“You want me to what?” Anna asked her brother as they sat on the front porch swing.

“Just temporarily.”

“You said she is a prostitute.”

“She was.” He gestured at the truck where Meg sat. “She needs help.”

“Father won’t agree,” she pointed out.

“He doesn’t need to know. The only reason why I’m telling you the truth is because you’d find out anyway, being you.” Castiel leaned forward. “Please.”

“I don’t need help,” she said. At his look she paled further. “Much, anyway. Besides, wasn’t this girl’s father a crook? And her?”

“How did you know that?”

“Her last name is Masters? I read the papers, Cass.” She sighed. “Why are you doing this?”

Castiel stared at Meg who was looking asleep in his truck. “I don’t know.”

Anna ran her eyes over him and then looked at Meg. “Oh boy. This is going to be trouble.” She shook her head. “Fine. I’ll hire her. Father did say I could have a caretaker if I needed one.”

Castiel stared at her. “Is it getting worse?”

“Just tired all the time.” She gave him a smile that only seemed to drain her further. “You know how it is. This girl, does she read?” Castiel hesitated and Anna blinked. “Write? What can she do?”

“Well, she…” He thought over his association with Meg and realized how little he knew about her. “She is very intelligent and she is good at conversation.”

“Super. Just what I need.” She pushed a strand of red hair behind her ear. The screen door banged open and they both looked to see Olivia coming out, her ledger in her hand. Anna beamed at her. “Castiel decided to find me a companion.”

Their mother stared at them hard and pointed at them both in turn. “What are you up to?” she demanded. “I know those looks.”

“What looks?” Anna asked.

“You could fool your father, trust me it is easy, but you can’t fool me. You didn’t need a companion till now? And your brother looks like a boxer’s victim.” Olivia snapped her ledger shut and glanced at Castiel. He looked at the floorboards and hesitantly relayed the situation to his mother. She inhaled sharply. “I loathe the church at times.”

“I know.” He looked at her finally. “It would be temporary. I think she just needs direction.”

“Did you ask her if she wants it?” his mother challenged. “Don’t be so quick to pass judgement on what a woman wants, Castiel.”

“I did give her the choice. She doesn’t have many options.”

“She could leave town to the bigger cities. Make her way.”

“And be a prostitute there?” he snapped.

The two women looked at one another before his mother rounded on him.

“Why are you so concerned what she does?” Olivia asked with frank interest. Castiel looked away. “Oh Castiel.”

The door banged open and his father came out, carrying his briefcase and a paper tucked under an elbow. At the sight of his family, he stopped short and stared at them all. “Family meeting without me?” he asked mildly.

Castiel looked at his sister and mother. Olivia sighed. “Anna has hired a caretaker to help her, at Castiel’s suggestion.”

“Oh?” Chuck looked at his watch. “That’s fantastic news. Who is she?”

“A young lady from town who needs the job. Anna has been needing help for a while and I have my projects to work on. Castiel is busy as well.”

Chuck looked at them. “Well, she can have the attic room if you want her to live in. I trust you, Olivia, to get it all settled.”

“As ever.”

#

Meg stared at the two women across her and felt like she was facing a firing squad. The younger red head had a delicate look about her but her eyes were steel, while the elder woman looked like veritable goddess looking at her subject. Beside Meg, Castiel sipped lemonade and said nothing as the women interrogated her.

“…you aren’t really qualified,” Anna said. “Why do you want to do this?”

Meg debated on lying. But then she shrugged. “Better than lying on my back, really.”

Castiel choked and his mother reached out to pat him on the back.

“I just need something to get some money so I can try to leave town without Crowley or my mother noticing.” Meg eyed Castiel. “And Clarence here doesn’t want me stealing.”

“Clarence?” Anna asked but Olivia was smirking.

“I like you, Miss. Masters. Anna needs all the pushing she can get to stop wallowing in her rooms. I’ll hire you myself. Every day except Sunday, eight in the morning until seven at night you’ll help Anna. You take your meals with us of course and I will expect you to help around the house as needed.”

Meg blinked. “That’s it?”

“Mm. Castiel?” Olivia stood and gestured. “Take her to her room and I’ll see if we have anything better for her to wear. That blouse is nearly indecent.”

“I didn’t agree…” Meg started and Castiel nudged her.

“Come on. If you have doubts you can tell me.” He hovered his hand over the small of her back and led her from the front parlour and up the back stairs from the kitchen. She followed him up the steps, taking in the sedate old-fashioned house, until they reached the attic floor. “This isn’t permanent. Mother will pay you well and when you want to leave, just tell her.”

“I don’t know,” Meg said. “Why are you doing this anyway?” He turned toward her and she stalked up to him until he backed into the door. “Are you sweet on me or something?”

He considered it and shrugged. “Likely.” Meg stared incredulously at him as he turned away and unlocked the door. He waved a hand. “It is small but it would be yours. Bathroom is downstairs and Father insists on absolute quiet most hours but no one would bother you.”

Meg looked at the bright attic space, running her hand over the stair railing as she sniffed the stale air.

“It was Luke’s at one point. Before the…unpleasantness. He stayed away from the family for so long, you know. By the time of the trial, Father had already disowned him. Strange because until last month they kept this room just as Luke left it.” He sighed and slapped his hand on the comforter covering the bed. A puff of dust rose to the sunshine.

“I can’t do this,” Meg whispered and she turned away, ready to bolt. Castiel stopped her at the stairs and turned her around, the first real physical contact they’d had all morning, and he lead her back up the landing stairs.

“It isn’t permanent. And it would help me as well. I’m not without motive.”

Meg stared at him as she circled the room.

“Anna isn’t well. She locks herself in her rooms. I can’t be here all hours and Mother and Father are…well…” He shrugged. “Difficult. It would be a favour you are doing me. I would owe you.”

Meg arched a brow. “Owe me? A girl could cause trouble with a favour.”

He blushed but didn’t take the bait. “Look it as mutually beneficial. You earn money, I am sure my sister is okay.”

“Ruby would be better suited to this,” Meg muttered. Then she rolled her eyes and faced him, arms crossed over her chest. “Fine. I’m doing this because what the hell else am I going to do until I get money to leave. That’s the only reason.”

He nodded. “I’ll leave you to it then. I have business to attend to.”

Meg frowned as she watched him leave, unsettled by the fact that he left her there by herself.

#

The Winchesters were home when Castiel drove up later in the afternoon. Dean had obviously just returned as he was unpacking his car while Sam was sitting the front porch. At his arrival, Dean waved but when both brothers saw his bruises they abandoned what they were doing to come to his truck. Castiel leaned out the window to let them see it.

“Wrong end of the stick?” Dean asked as he looked at Castiel closely.

“Crowley. Apparently he thought I knew something about Meg Masters’ disappearance,” he said without expression. Dean looked away while Sam offered Castiel a sad eyed look. “Dean?”

“It’s nothing. But that girl needs to get gone. We can’t waste our time protecting every streetwalker that comes our way.” Dean rolled his shoulders and straightened up. “I’m not wrong and you both know it. We have bigger fish to catch. Like Crowley himself.”

Castiel closed his eyes. “And her being Az’s daughter doesn’t help matters.”

“No, it doesn’t. Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, remember?”

Sam leaned against the hood of Castiel’s truck. “Where is she, Cass?”

Castiel stared hard at Dean. There would be no changing his mind about Meg and where before his concern might have been touching, it grated now. Castiel wasn’t the naive man he’d been in the war.

“I’d appreciate it if you kept Crowley away from uptown for a while. I don’t have the deals you two have with him and I am trying to lead a quiet life again.”

Dean stepped back from the truck as Castiel fired it up. Sam shrugged and slunk back to the small house, but his brother gave Castiel a confused frown.

“I told you before, don’t come running to us if it goes south. We’ve got our own problems.”

Castiel nodded, understanding him. “I understand. Your problems first, as I recall.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Dismissing the situation as hopeless, he left Dean behind and tried to control how his hands shook with his regret at being so harsh with his friend.

 


	12. Wee Wee Hours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hiding Meg with his family had seemed like such a good idea but Castiel now has to cope with the lies he is telling his own father.

Rather than cope with the prospect that he had made a mistake, Castiel lost himself in writing articles for his father and visiting local churches to see if there was more work to be had. But his heart was in neither. He was on outs with the Winchesters at a time when he needed part-time work, so Bobby was his only outlet in letting him find jobs here and there, and his family was as insular as ever. He had the learning to make a good living in any city but his reluctance to leave Harrow again meant he was staying for now.

Then there was the problem of Meg.

Castiel dragged his feet as he walked up the drive to his father’s house, a sheaf of edited papers tucked under one arm and his keys in the other. From what his mother had told him, Meg had been an awkward fit into the house but she was remarkably good for Anna. She ignored Anna’s stubbornness and caustically forced the girl to get out and about and to work on her walking exercises. Anna might never be able to run a mile but she’d at least be able to try. The two girls weren’t exactly getting along but Olivia ignored it because she hadn’t seen Anna so feisty in some time. Castiel came and went, each time hoping to see Meg, but the most he ever heard was her and Anna bickering in the next room.

As he climbed the porch steps, Castiel heard faint music around the other side of the house where the back door was. It was late enough that his father should have been home but he didn’t see his car in the drive. He went through the house, dropping the sheaf off at his father’s study, before continuing on through the kitchen and out the door.

Meg sat on the porch swing, staring out at the empty apple orchard. When he cleared his throat, she glanced over, nodded, then looked back out. It was still humid out, enough that Castiel felt the stickiness settling in under his shirt, and Meg was wearing a thin cotton dress that was more revealing than usual. In the heat, he couldn’t blame her.

“Where is everyone?” he asked as he leaned on the rail across from her. Meg gave him a lazy look.

“Anna is upstairs cooling off. Your mother is in the basement with her plants and your aunt is sleeping in the library I think.” She sighed and stretched. “A moment’s peace at last.”

“I didn’t mean to disturb you,” he began and she shook her head.

“I thought you were avoiding me.” Meg dragged her eyes up and down him. “A hit to a girl’s ego, you know.”

“I didn’t mean to. I’ve been busy.” He loosened his collar and tried to smile at her but it felt false. Lying had never been his strong suit. “I wasn’t sure, Meg, what exactly was supposed to happen between us.”

“Nothing.” She kicked her shoes off and tucked them. “You’re worried over nothing. Remember, me? I’m an expert in not making a big deal about things these days. Don’t worry your pretty head about it, doll.”

There was something unsure in her though and Castiel doubted she was so cocky. He elected to let it slide. “Are you enjoying staying here?”

She shrugged. “It’s different. When she’s not barking at me, I get along okay.”

“And your free time?” he asked. “Are you getting bored? Mother said you stay in most of the time.”

“Why do you care?” Meg snapped. “Going to ask me on a date?”

This time he did blush. “Not exactly.” He moved and took a seat beside her on the swing. “I was merely going to ask if you’d like to go for a drive on Sunday.”

Meg scooted closer, until her thigh pressed against his, and leaned in. “Sounds like a date, Clarence.”

“It’s a drive,” he corrected, tugging on his collar again. “I need to clear my head. We could go to the river.”

“Date,” she said with a pop of her lips and smirked. “Sure you want to be seen with me?”

“We’d be driving on country roads, Meg. Hardly anything scandalous.”

She pouted. “Ruin a girl’s dreams, will you? You sure this isn’t just a plan to get me alone again?”

“I think you could handle yourself. I also think you would be safe driving with me. Crowley is keeping to his end of town, after all,” Castiel said, highly aware of her leaning against him. “Well?”

She pursed her lips and shrugged. “Why not?”

He smiled and stood up. “Sunday then, in the afternoon.”

Meg looked ready to answer when they both heard Olivia’s curious calling from inside the house. Castiel smiled once more at Meg, a gesture that confused her a little, and disappeared into the house. If his mother noticed his absent-minded smile during dinner, she thought nothing of it.

#

Castiel sat through a wretched sermon for his Sunday morning, fighting the urge not to storm up to the pulpit and give Zachariah a piece of his mind. The fire and brimstone hailed down upon the congregation was in direct contrast to his own quiet encouragement, and the crowd ate it up. Castiel had noticed that the congregation was once more a sea of wealthy faces and he had resigned himself to having not made a difference after all. The disappointment had made him leave early and he had driven around town for a while to clear his head.

What was the point in trying to make a difference when your work was overridden by popularity?

He stopped at the Winchesters’ and found the two were gone. A quick stop at Bobby’s had let him know that they were up on a salvage mission at another town to help negotiations between two farmers who were coming close to burning each other’s lands. Bobby hadn’t inquired after Meg and Castiel hadn’t brought her up.

The sun was hot and high by the time he drove up to his father’s house. Anna sat cuddled on a large wicker chair while his mother read her a magazine, and they both beamed at him as he came up the steps.

“Cas!” Anna threw her arms around him when he bent to kiss her hello and she hugged him so tight his breath whooshed out. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“Oh?” He touched his mother’s shoulder and peered into the house.

“Your father is at the office,” she said dryly.

“I figured.”

Anna was nearly vibrating. “I was able to get Meg interested in my books. She’s trying to read them.”

“Oh?” That was unexpected. Anna was possessive over her books the way his mother was over her experiments. “What books?”

“Yes, Anna, what books?” his mother said with a chuckle. His sister made a face.

“My short books. “Queen Jezebel”, “The Deathless Amazon”, those sorts.”

He frowned. “From that publishing house Father doesn’t like? Harlequin?”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m keen on them. They’re fun to read. Besides, I’m getting her to read them.”

“Why?”

Anna shrugged. “Better than her stumbling over my history books.”

There was a little bit of superiority in her voice that made Castiel know that she’d likely given Meg the books to provide herself with some amusement. “Where is Meg?”

“Upstairs. I told her to join us but it’s her day off, so she’s keeping to herself.” Olivia put her book on her lap. “Did you need her for something?”

“I offered to take her for a drive.” His mother and sister exchanged looks and he rubbed at his jaw. “A drive only.”

“Sounds like a date.”

“A drive is not a date,” Castiel insisted.

“Was in my day.” Olivia smiled. “As I recall, a ‘drive’ was how I ended up with your eldest brothers nine months later.”

Anna scowled. “Mother, must you? I mean, Castiel is just being kind. Meg isn’t exactly his sort.”

“That’s true.”

“What sort is that?” he asked, a little defensive on his own behalf.

His mother shrugged. “Someone a little less…worldly than Meg.”

She said it so kindly that he wasn’t angry with her. She had a point. Despite her younger age, Meg did have far more sexual experience and street experience than he did. As he headed for the back steps and climbed the stairs, he thought it over. His time in Korea, Tokyo, Washington, at college… all of it had been very close-knit and reserved. His experiences had been a product of following his friends and trying to do what was best.

Never mind that that night with Meg still haunted him.

He knocked on the door and when there was no answer, he pushed it open, peeking through. Soft blues hummed through the radio in the corner and he noticed the strewn clothing and books. The mess seemed typical and almost very deliberate. Meg had dragged her bed to the singular window in the corner and was across it, asleep. She lay curled on her side like a cat in the warm sunshine streaming in through the window, her skirt hiked up to her thigh and her bodice opened to the navel. It was humid in the attic and he saw beads of sweat on her skin.

When she didn’t respond to his call, he picked his way through the room and sat on the bed. It was likely inappropriate but he figured they were beyond propriety at this point. Gently he touched her shoulder and she sighed, burrowing her face into her pillow.

“Meg?”

“Mm?”

“Time for that drive,” he said. She mumbled something and he leaned closer to try to hear her. “Meg?”

“Too hot to drive.” She rolled up a little, brushing her thick hair from her eyes, and he found himself staring into her sleepy face with more affection than he’d thought possible. She groaned and stretched before turning onto her back, her dress gaping about her breasts. Castiel stared at her face still as she yawned and ruffled her hair about her head. Catching him looking, she held up a hank of hair that was curling from the heat. “I’m chopping my hair off, you know, it’s the style. Liz Taylor, here I come.”

“No, don’t do that,” he blurted out and she stared at him. Reaching out, he touched the tendril of hair and held it between his fingers, smoothing his thumb over its silkiness. “I like your hair this way.”

Meg looked at the hand touching her hair and then at him. “You sweet thing.” The look in her eye was familiar and he nervously moved his hand to cup her cheek. She shifted up and he moved down until her mouth was under his, her breath tasting of coffee and tooth powder. Her soft moan destroyed his resolve to put distance between them and he leaned forward as he kissed her, pressing her into the soft mattress. Her hand went to his hair, her nails scraping on his scalp, and he reached up to take her wrist in hand, pushing it down onto the bed and holding her fingers trapped within his. All religious rhetoric left once again and he felt her softness yield beneath him as she pulled him with her on to the bed until they lay side by side.

It felt like eternity that he lay with her on the bed, kissing her with slow intent as he ran his hands over her body. Meg slid her legs between his and led his hands within her dress until he cupped her breasts before she began arching into him. It was different this time, less frantic, and he revelled in the way she shuddered beneath his touch. In a haze, he wondered if it was because she seemed to truly want him that it was so intoxicating. Even knowing what she was before wasn’t enough to make him doubt his own apparent desire. As he squeezed a breast and slipped his tongue within her mouth, Castiel was aware that this time he might like to try to savour the experience more.

Solely focussed on Meg, he was slipping his fingers down her belly and skimming her panties when his mother’s voice suddenly broke through. She was shouting up the stairs. “Castiel! Meg! Are you still up there?”

He lifted his head, staring at Meg’s desire-slack face, and tried to breathe. “We’re here,” he answered when he trusted his voice. “Meg wanted to read to me.”

He heard his mother mumbling but she didn’t climb the steps.

Meg groaned and pressed her face to his throat, taking in a trembling breath as her fingers flexed within his. “I hate your mother, by the way.”

Castiel closed his eyes as she licked at his throbbing pulse before nuzzling his jaw. “I know.” Clearing his throat, he started to pull away though his aching body begged him to stay. “We should go for that drive. They’ll be suspicious if we don’t.”

“Can’t have them knowing I’m seducing their church boy, huh?” she whispered.

Castiel drew her up with him and set about buttoning her shirtdress once more. When done, he put his hands on her shoulders. “Maybe I don’t want them knowing I’m seducing you.”

The grin she shot him was so playful that he nearly forgot all about the drive. It would be so easy to press her back into the bed and have a lazy afternoon learning about her body. But knowing Anna and his mother waited down below, he smoothed his hair back and turned away as Meg found her shoes.

“After you,” she muttered and he headed down. The entire time, he hoped no one would notice the swelling of their lips or the way Meg’s hair was frazzled from his touch.

#

The truck had rattled and rolled, covering their silence. Castiel tried every trick he knew to make stilted conversation, but Meg seemed to be quieter than before. She stayed on her side of the truck seat, her bare feet hanging out the window, as he drove them miles out of town. They covered back roads and trails, through pastures and fields, until he finally had enough and turned for home. It was already starting to be dark and he knew to be later would cause his family to talk. As he made to turn into the lane, Meg suddenly put her hand out and kept his wheel straight.

“Not yet,” she ordered. At his look, she settled down in the seat and gave him a scowl. “Just… not yet.”

Confused, he kept driving until he came to the dead end of his home lane. When he pulled up to the stand of trees and meadow behind his tiny rental and killed the engine, Meg finally turned toward him and flashed him a smile.

“Come on.” Before he could stop her, she was headed for his back porch. Castiel fumbled with his keys as he caught up to her and as he leaned into open the door, she grasped him by his collar and pulled him close. “You _are_ bad for me,” she accused.

“How?” he asked even as he leaned in and kissed her forehead while he struggled to unlock the door without looking.

“You’re making me want to never to return to work. Doesn’t your Bible say something about changing spots?” she asked against his neck.

“Jeremiah 13:23,” he recited.

“Sure thing, Clarence. Then there’s you. You’re this man who doesn’t want much and keeps making me forget what I am,” she said with a little bit of heat.

Castiel frowned. “What’s that?”

“A whore, dummy. Did you forget?”

He shrugged. “It’s just not important to me.”

His flippancy seemed to irritate her. “Maybe it matters to me.” She gestured at herself as she turned her head away, still not entering his house. “How do you know I’m not making you one of my marks? The way Ruby is with Sam Winchester?”

“Are you?” he asked with incredible curiosity. Meg sighed and rubbed at her forehead. Castiel moved forward again. “Meg?”

“That’s not the goddamn point,” she cursed. “You don’t know a thing about me.”

“You don’t know much about me either,” he pointed out. “So what are we doing here then?”

Meg opened the door to his house and walked through into the shadows. “Likely making a huge mistake.”

#

He held her hips as she rode him with slow-moving intent, her hands clutching his headboard and her head thrown back. Castiel watched her, entranced as his hands roamed over her skin and held her close, and Meg shuddered, hair swooping along her spine. She’d been quiet in her instructions this time, letting him touch to his heart’s content, and only when he was satisfied that his fingers knew her body did she roll him over to his back. He’d been so fascinated watching her that he hadn’t resisted as long minutes passed, the feel of her body testing his resolve. As he felt the ache spiralling in his own body, he watched as her hand reached between her legs and he nearly groaned as she touched herself until she shuddered again, a low moan coming from deep in her throat. The feeling of her clenching around him was too much and he gave a jerking thrust upward as he came behind her. He clutched her hips and raised up in the bed to press his mouth between her breasts, shuddering at the feeling of being so close to her.

When Meg bowed her back deeper and her eyes opened to meet his, Castiel caught his breath. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered and she gave him a slanted smile.

“For a whore, right?” she asked and he sat up automatically, the sheets rumpling around their joined bodies.

“I didn’t say that.”

She splayed her fingers on his chest and pushed him back down. “Doesn’t change it. You’re just hiding me because of what I am. What we both know I am.”

He stared up at her. “Meg, that’s not why.”

“Why then?”

“Because if I don’t hide you, you might disappear.”

Meg chewed on her lower lip as she stared at him. Her skin still sparkling with sweat and flushed, her hair in a mess, Castiel nearly called her beautiful again but knew better. She seemed ready to bolt and he merely wanted just a few more minutes with her before he took her home. Instead, he simply reached up and tugged her down into his arms. Meg rested her cheek flat against his chest and sighed, letting him hold her and slowly work each snarl out of her long hair. When he felt her relax, he pressed a kiss to the top of her head and wished things were different.

Neither noticed the lens pointed in through his bedroom window curtains.

#

Meg woke from her doze on the armchair by the bed to see Castiel twisting on the bed, in the grips of a nightmare. She’d moved when he’d fallen asleep, unused to sleeping with anyone as she was, and now she watched him with interest at the snarl on his lips, the way he arched and rolled, fighting the sheet she’d covered him with. It was startling to see the way he scrunched his eyes and twin tracks were running down his cheeks. He was now crying in his sleep and Meg wondered how bad his dreams were. She took her feet from the bed when he rolled too close to them and then Castiel sat straight up, rigid as a board. When he looked her way, his face was vacant and his eyes glazed, his skin slick with sweat.

Slipping into his shirt and pushing the oversized sleeves up her arms, Meg slid from the chair onto the bed and took his hands in hers. “Wake up,” she ordered when he didn’t seem to actually see her. His fingers clenched around hers tightly and he shook his head, trembling. There was a threat of violence within him, she could feel it, but she’d been too long in the underbelly of the world to be afraid.

Even so, she watched his face carefully for any signs he’d strike out. “Clarence.”

He jolted at her voice and his head tilted a little. “They died because of me,” he blurted out.

“Who?”

“All of them. I led them…they died.” Castiel took his hands from hers and brought his knees to his face. For a man with his build and strength, Meg had never seen anyone look fragile. He took in a few deep gulping breaths to control himself, before sagging forward. Meg jerked when he pressed against her, his face against her breasts, and his arms curved around her body, drawing her into his lap. As uncomfortable as such affection usually made her, she slid her body against his and awkwardly stroked his soaked hair as he began to breathe normally once more.

“Almost time to take me home,” she muttered against his ear. His grip only tightened.

“Stay for a few more hours.”

“Making me sneak home?” she asked, trying to make him forget his bad dream. “Feels so naughty.”

He snorted against her neck. “I imagine that’s a common experience.”

Rather than being insulted, Meg held him tighter for a moment. When she made to move, he laid back on the bed and pulled her into him. At her startled murmur, he simply tucked her into his body and kept his face to her chest. “You don’t like sleeping with me,” he said once she stopped squirming.

“What makes you say that?” she asked as she tried to get comfortable.

“I think it frightens you,” Castiel observed, voice muffled. “Maybe you never slept beside anyone before that didn’t expect something from you.”

Meg had to force herself not to push him away at that piece of insight and instead put a pillow beneath her head. “Shut up, Clarence.”

He said nothing, just stayed quiet in her arms and let her warmth soothe him into a doze. Restless as the constant contact made her, Meg sighed and closed her eyes. What could an hour hurt?

 


	13. Ain’t that a shame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As life falls into an easy pattern between Castiel and Meg, the consequences of their actions arrive to pull that pattern apart at the seams.

It fell into an easy pattern for several weeks. Castiel found excuses to visit his father’s house and sometimes Meg was there, sometimes not. She and Anna had reached an uneasy truce about her care-taking but his sister had taken it onto herself to educate Meg fully. To Castiel’s amusement, the dime novels his sister gave the younger woman seemed to fascinate Meg and he hadn’t the heart to correct either of them. It was good to see Anna fighting a little and Meg did push her quite viciously from what Olivia told him. His father came and went, not really noticing Meg and his daughter or Castiel’s increased presence at home. Olivia, for all her teasing, was obviously amused by Castiel’s interest in Meg and merely encouraged it, citing it to be a good lesson for him.

Nightly drives became the norm between them and the few times he came to dinner and Meg was invited as well, he sat with her on the front porch after the meal. Meg told him very little of herself and he had no better skill in telling her of his experience in Korea, but they were becoming comfortable together. Comfortable enough that sometimes, when his family was asleep, he snuck in the back door to Meg’s tiny room and spent the night with her. His fascination with the freedom she represented was something Meg found entertaining and she didn’t resist. There were even nights she came with him and their clandestine affair began to spark a little further.

Without the Winchesters there to distract him and give him work, Castiel found it suspiciously easy to find reasons to visit Meg. It was turning to the end of summer and he was ignoring the very real reality that she might leave soon, with the money she’d saved from his mother.

They were sitting together on the bed of his truck, Meg’s legs tangled with his as he kept her wrapped in a flannel blanket. Still damp with sweat and smelling of sex, she pushed back into his arms and ruffled his hair with her hands. Weeks had passed but she was slowly getting used to him holding her. The riverbed nearby made for a soft backdrop of trickling water and the lush smell of cut hay in the distance made the atmosphere all the more peaceful. Castiel yawned and stared up at the dusky sky, aware that they’d have to move soon.

“Getting better, Clarence,” she muttered against his chest before laying her cheek flat over his heart.

“Yes, it is, isn’t it?” he asked as he ran his hand up and down her back. “I didn’t hurt you?”

They both flashed back to the aggressive way he’d shoved her against a tree and made her cry out when he took her roughly. Meg chuckled and ran her hand down his chest.

“Not in a bad way,” she admitted.

Castiel closed his eyes and let the dying sunlight heat his naked skin. The past few weeks had been an adventure in allowing himself some freedom from normality and his nightmares hadn’t been as prevalent either. Even knowing that made him wonder if there was more at work here. A priest would say he was fallen but Castiel was sure he’d felt as if he was still falling.

How much further could it go?

Castiel’s blue eyes opened and he stared at the purple tinged sky. His heart began to hammer and he felt almost light-headed with the weight of such a realization. He glanced down at Meg and saw her thoughtful expression as she drew patterns on his chest. Distracted by the feel of her hands on his body, he had to admire the sight and feel of her. Meg herself seemed to be changing a little. Since the summer began, her skin had become tanned and she’d become more voluptuous, so that her thinness was a thing of recent memory. Even her hair seemed to shimmer with lustre. She practically glowed. It was a change that made him sure he had made the right choice. He had to assume it was because she was living a little easier than before that she was changing so slowly.

Lifting his head a little, he kissed the top of her hair.

“We should go.”

#

Meg folded the coat in her arms and walked before Castiel up the drive. At his insistence, she’d taken a few minutes to fix her hair and lipstick but there was no mistaking the grass stains on her skirt. She hoped she could get to the back steps before anyone noticed. She lacked any sense of shame really but Castiel still seemed nervous over it.

He walked several feet behind her, the distance there to try to prove they were not doing anything untoward, and Meg felt his eyes on her. Grinning, she scuffed her toe in the dirt and waited for him at the steps. Castiel met her eye and she winked, causing him to blush.

The bang of the screen door made them jump guiltily apart to see Chuck standing at the top of the stairs, holding a manila folder. For a smaller man, he looked immensely intimidating. Behind him Olivia stood with her arms crossed but she didn’t seem upset. Merely reserved. Castiel winced at the look both his parents were sending him.

“Father, Mother,” he said.

“Castiel,” Olivia said. She looked at Meg and waved her hand. “We were looking for you earlier.”

“Day off, isn’t it?” Meg asked as she leaned on the rail. Olivia raised her fine brows and looked at Chuck. Meg caught the look and glanced down at her bare feet, suddenly aware of how she looked. “I’ll go get shoes on.”

She glanced over her shoulder at Castiel but he was stone-faced and quiet. So much so that she knew something was wrong. He didn’t look at her once and she went to the back door.

Resisting the urge to watch her go, Castiel stared at his father. “What is it? You usually work late Sundays.”

“I normally do, but I had a special delivery.” He threw the manila folder at Castiel and then disappeared into the house. Olivia followed him and Castiel frowned, opening the folder. Over fifteen black and whites were shuffled together, photographs of Meg on the streets with men, accepting money from men, and of himself and Meg caught naked. Private moments when he had thought they were alone stared back at him. He saw every naked detail of Meg’s body and each shot made it clear it was him who was lying with her, that it was him who was touching her. The invasion of privacy made his throat close up and he nearly panicked then and there.

Crumpling the folder in his hand, he stormed into the house and his father’s study. Chuck was pouring himself a bourbon while Olivia sat in the corner, her ever watchful gaze resting on her husband.

“Where is Mara?” Chuck asked his wife and she shrugged. Chuck downed the drink and turned to Castiel. “Close the door.”

He slid the door closed and stepped into the centre of the room. “Father, I…”

“Those photos came with a note from an anonymous photographer. Apparently, those photos will go public if I don’t pay a substantial sum.” Chuck poured another glassful of bourbon and he took a seat in his leather chair. “So, that is why you wanted her here?”

“Meg is innocent,” Castiel began and Chuck glared at him.

“The note also detailed her previous occupation which you didn’t tell me about. Including times she was run in by the police, not to mention the notoriety of her family. Had I known, she’d be in jail for all I cared. So please, don’t tell me she is innocent. There’s no such thing,” Chuck snapped. Castiel chanced looking at his mother but she refused to look at him. It was obvious he was on his own.

“This wasn’t what I intended. I wanted to help her.”

“She’s tainting this household even now. How long has this been going on? Recently?” Chuck asked and at his son’s averted gaze he nodded. “Since the church, I imagine.”

Castiel closed his eyes.

“You realize how this looks, not just for me but for you? My son, a promising reverend in the county, has been found in bed with a prostitute who is also the daughter of a career criminal. It is bad enough Luke caused his troubles but I can get by that. I buried that and people are understanding that he went rotten. I can’t sweep this under the rug easily. They are going to go to rival papers with this information if I don’t pay out and just in time for me to start my campaigning.” Chuck tapped the desk. “So you will explain yourself now and give me a way of making this disappear. We all have a lot to lose.”

“Meg needed a safe place. When she came to me for help, Fergus Crowley and Lil Masters had had her beaten. It was my duty to help her,” Castiel tried but his father scoffed.

“Your duty was to keep her safe, I agree, but not spend hours between her legs. Damn it, Castiel, knowing what she is…”

“It just happened. I will take the blame.”

“Nothing just happens and you know that. You’re no child, Castiel.” Chuck exhaled sharply. “So what am I supposed to do, hmm? Let this get to the papers? This would ruin your life, your sister’s life, everyone. If we were anyone else, no one would care. But here, in Harrow? Everyone cares. You were selfish, Castiel, and that was not how I raised you to be. Your brothers would have known better.”

Castiel flinched and looked out the window at his mother’s garden. Olivia finally stirred.

“That’s not fair, Charles.”

“I don’t care. It is the truth. Castiel needs to fix this.”

“I’ll marry her,” Castiel said automatically. His parents stared at him in surprise and he felt surprised himself. Where had that come from? “Wouldn’t that help?”

“It would cover some of it but not much.” Chuck rubbed at his forehead. “Castiel, why couldn’t you have simply fallen for a church girl?”

“We can’t control who we love,” Olivia snapped. “It explains our marriage, doesn’t it?”

Chuck glared at her and Castiel thought it over. He knew he was feeling deeply for Meg but love? He had never been in love before.

The door behind him rolled open and Meg stepped through. She ignored Castiel and focussed solely on Chuck. “I got a few things in a bag, I’ll be out before you know it,” she said. “So your family isn’t so tainted.”

The venom in her voice made Chuck sputter and Castiel reached out to touch her hand. He summoned his nerve and squeezed her fingers.

“Meg, would you marry me?”

“Yeah sure, when you say it that romantically,” she answered without looking at him. He waited until she finally looked at him, confused. “You’re not serious?”

“I am. I mean,” he cleared his throat, “it isn’t exactly for romantic purposes. I can be honest about that but I think it would work. I like you despite what your past says, what your family was like, your poorness and lack of education, all of that. If this saves my family’s reputation and helps you, then what is the harm?”

Her eyes seemed to darken a little.

“None of that goes away,” Meg snapped. “It’s part of me.”

“It doesn’t have to be. We can forget about it,” Castiel corrected.

His mother inhaled and the look on Meg’s face warned him that this was going to go to hell quickly. He saw it in her eyes. Before he could backtrack, Castiel knew he’d lost.

“No, I don’t think so. Thanks for the offer though,” she said, jerking her hand from his. She looked at Chuck. “I just need my week’s wages.”

Castiel stood in dumbfounded confusion as Meg collected her money from his father and headed out the front door. The complete change in her to this cold and calculating woman made him wonder how long she’d been eavesdropping on the conversation after all. Olivia gave him a sympathetic look and at her meaningful cough he jogged after Meg, who had made it to the bottom of the stairs. She was hefting the bag over her shoulder and fighting with her badly worn shoes. He could only guess that she was scrambling with pride more.

“Meg!” He practically leapt down the steps to get in front of her. Meg pursed her lips and tried to dart around him but he took her by the arm and held her still. “Stop for a minute. Where are you going to go?”

She hoisted the bag high on her shoulder and made a face. “Anywhere. Probably back to my side of town.”

“You could stay…”

“Where? With you? On this side of town? I don’t belong here and you know it.” Meg rolled her eyes. “I don’t know what I was thinking. Being away for this long is for sure gonna get me beaten up.”

“You can’t go back to that life.” Castiel wanted to shake her.

“It’s what I am,” she answered and this time he did grasp her by the upper arms, holding her still.

“You’re more than that.”

Meg sighed. “You’re a sweet thing but let’s face facts. This thing between us? It was fun but call it a spade, Clarence, it was sex. Fun sex, I’ll give you that and I don’t often get fun sex, but it was a trade. You kept me safe, I let you use me for your fun and games.”

Castiel went white, missing the way Meg’s eyes darted to the side as she chose her words carefully.

“Only thing that didn’t happen was money changing hands officially. You know it, I know it.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Let me go.”

His fingers flexed into her skin before he released her completely.

“Good, we cleared that up. You looking for a goodbye kiss?” she asked and Castiel frowned down at her. “Then I’ll be seeing you.”

She made it to the drive this time and Castiel stared after her, head roaring with possibilities and fears. He took a moment to give a quick prayer before he stalked after her down the dirt road. Meg moved fast but his longer strides caught up to her easily.

“What are you going to do?”

“Don’t know yet.”

“You could stay with me, I wouldn’t mind…”

“Your family would and you’re devoted to them, and those Winchesters. I know what they think of this mess and they probably would delight in making sure you remember each time you’re making your bed with a common whore. I’ll make my own way. I like to lie low, remember?” she asked and he stepped away as she pushed around him once more, trying to get to the road once more. Castiel stopped and held his hands out to the side, standing in the darkening shade of the trees.

“Meg, please.” He watched as she stopped abruptly. “Just… stay.”

Her shoulders drooped a little but just as quickly she fixed herself and turned toward him sideways. Castiel knew then, looking at her and seeing the resolve in her eyes, that she wasn’t about to be convinced. “Goodbye, Clarence.” Her frown was a little sad. “See you around.”

Her fractured dignity made her seem so fierce as she turned away. It was then, faced with her stubbornness, that Castiel knew that it broke his heart when Meg walked away from him.

 


	14. Heartbreak Hotel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Always though it's crowded, you still can find some room,  
> Those broken-hearted lovers cry away there in their gloom,  
> I get so lonely baby, I get so lonely, I get so lonely I could die

Meg dragged her heels down the dirt road into town, aware of the heaviness of her canvas bag and the nagging feeling that she had made a mistake. Her pride wouldn’t let her turn around though and she stamped down the road with as much dignity as she could muster. She had pebbles rattling around in her shoes, dirt staining the hem of her worn dress, and she felt the drops of rain starting to dribble down her back. With her feet getting sore and her shoulders aching, Meg was slowly getting angrier and angrier with herself.

It might have been a shit offer but it had been an offer all the same. It was just startling that a man had wanted to marry her and the afterglow of sex hadn’t been the chief cause. Still, it had been almost insulting. Knowing it was out of a sense of duty and pity hadn’t been a good sell for her and Meg hadn’t liked it one bit.

Then he had made it clear that her past and upbringing was something beneath remembering and she was sure that Castiel saw her as a novelty. A forbidden toy he’d had a chance to play with. Nothing more. That stung worse than she would ever admit and now she was paying for being impulsively upset, walking to town when rain was coming.

Meg tried to speed up but her heel crunched into a pot hole and she went to her knees, scraping badly as she tumbled to the ditch. She nearly howled like a child then, she was so frustrated, but instead she picked herself up and stared down glumly at the road. It was a long walk back to her side of Harrow, if that was where she was headed. I she was smart, she’d go to the train yard, hop a ride, and never look back. But the thought made her almost sick.

A truck was approaching at a rambling speed and Meg stared, unable to deny how her heart began to pound in anticipation. She strained to see if it was Castiel behind the wheel. Much as she wanted to deny her desires, she wondered what he’d be willing to defy if he actually wanted her.

When the truck pulled alongside her, Meg braced herself for familiar blue eyes to beguile her and painted a cocky grin on her face, hoping her eyes flashed a little as well. But the man who leaned out was not Castiel but a shaggy grey haired man with a beard and wearing a cowboy hat. Mr. Cain smiled at her and there was nothing in his piercing eyes except curiosity.

“Miss. Masters, what are you doing out here?”

“Walking the long mile,” she answered, approaching warily. Cain spent so much time on his farm in the middle of nowhere that it was possible he didn’t know she’d been missing.

“Been a while since I was on your side of town, girl. Something happen to make you go walking in the uptown roads?” he asked, bright eyes glimmering with amusement. He seemed interested and Meg let her guard down a little. Cain had been kind to her in the past, surprising for a man with his background, and he had never hurt her before. As she leaned on his window, she smelt the honey that always seemed to permeate the air around him and it was pleasant enough that she smiled.

“Where are you headed?” she countered. “I could keep you company.” She hesitated, not knowing why she no longer wanted to offer anything in return.

Cain read her expression easily. “Come on, Meg, I’d give you a ride for free and you know it. No need to try the pretty eyes on me.” He jerked his head and she quickly ran to the other side of the truck, hopping in after throwing her bag into the back. When she settled, he started off and reached out to tweak her cheek. “You’re filling out, Meg.”

“Shut up,” she said but he had pointed out her rounded figure and she was suddenly self conscious over it. “What are you doing all this way?”

“Needing a few days in from the farm. Dust storm kicked up a mess that took me a while to clean up so I’m due for for relaxation.” He turned a corner and then looked at her with a smile. “Dinner, dancing, girls, few nights in town, the works.”

She smiled a little but didn’t answer, choosing instead to stare out the window.

Cain pushed back his shaggy iron grey hair. “You know, Meg, you look like you just lost your favourite thing in the world. Want to talk about it?”

Meg shook her head. “Nah. I just realized that this is never going to change.”

He wheeled around to the main road. “Don’t be so sure, Meg. We can choose to change our fates you know if we find the right reason to do so.”

“Like you did?”

He smiled. “Like I did. My wife gave me reason to change my future, bless her soul.” He braked for a passing group of children and looked at Meg again. “So, where am I taking you?”

Meg watched as the pitter-patter of rain began to slowly become a torrent of unseasonal rain. “Just take me back home.”

#

The moment Castiel stormed into Bobby’s house and started to rummage through his cupboards, the older man had rolled out from behind his desk to stare in surprise. It had been days since Castiel had come by and now he was diving into the shelves under the sink. Bobby watched as he tossed off his overcoat and hat, kicked a chair out of his way, and came stalking over to the makeshift office with a tin cup and a bottle of bourbon. Castiel shoved mechanical journals, blue prints and maps out of the way and set the cup down.

Bobby looked up at him. “What gives? You don’t drink.”

With a flash of defiance in his eye, Castiel unscrewed the cap and lifted the bottle to his lips. He chugged down a quarter of the rich liquor before coughing and widening his eyes a little. But he stomached it and Bobby gave him an impressed look.

“I do now. Join me?” Castiel asked. Bobby shrugged and wheeled his chair back to the desk, fishing out a dusty mug from the corner of the cupboard. Castiel poured hefty amounts in both their cups and held his out. Warily, Bobby clinked their mugs and Castiel downed his drink. He refilled and then took a seat with a thump opposite Bobby.

“Something you want to talk about?” Bobby ventured. Castiel shook his head. “Girl trouble?” The sharp look Castiel shot him made him nod. “Thought so.”

“How’d you know?” Castiel asked.

“Trust me, you hang around those Winchester boys long enough, you recognize the look. And I’m no newbie myself.” Bobby sipped his bourbon. “Who was she?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Castiel leaned back and slouched down in his chair. “Doesn’t matter a damn bit.”

Bobby frowned. “It does. You were going to go back to acting as a reverend, weren’t you? That’s the whole purpose coming back to Harrow. But from what I’ve heard, you’ve been scarce. Even Dean didn’t know where you were and you used to follow those Winchesters around like a lost hound dog. What gives? Lose your halo?”

“Something like that. I just had to help my father remove damaging blackmail from his life. Blackmail I’m responsible for.”

“Blackmail? From who?”

Castiel shook his head and took a long drink. “Either Fergus Crowley or Lil Masters. Take your pick.”

“But why would…” Bobby thought it over. Castiel’s father was entering politics and any blackmail would be a problem for a man with his wealth. But Castiel was clean-nosed even at the worst of occasions. He had a good heart. “What was the blackmail?”

“Does it matter?” Castiel closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. Bobby stared at him, noticing how rumpled he was and how his cheeks were overgrown with stubble. He looked exhausted, as if he had been running all week long, and he sipped at his drink repeatedly to try to strengthen himself. “What’s the point?”

Castiel was so moral and upright, trying hard to do right, and Bobby thought back over the weeks and months. It had all started…

“The girl, Meg. Is this because of her?” Bobby asked. Castiel’s hand went to his mouth, hiding his expression, but his eyes glinted a little with anger. “Cass, did you…”

“It happened,” he admitted and then his hand lifted to cover his face. “There were photographs.”

Bobby shook his head.

“Looks bad on a politician’s son, who was a reverend even for a short time, to be seen fucking a whore you know,” Castiel said with such bitterness that Bobby swallowed.

“So what happened?”

Castiel related the story without mincing words. His relationship with Meg, his attempt to give her a new life, the blackmail, everything. When he admitted to offering to marry Meg and her apparent indifference to the sincerity of the offer, Bobby winced in sympathy. Castiel didn’t often wear his heart on his sleeve, hiding behind a stoney expression most days, but he would have taken it hard to have what he thought was his help so rejected. Bobby didn’t know what Castiel felt but he guessed that he would take it hard that his first real experience with desire would end badly.

“Sounds like it’s best this way,” Bobby finally said when Castiel set to drinking and grumbling. “Say she’d said yes. You’d be trapped in a loveless marriage and so would she. You’d both have been miserable.”

Castiel’s silence made Bobby wonder if he was making the wrong assumption about his feelings for Meg. Instead of pushing, he reached out and clinked their glasses again. “To women. Bane of our existence,” he said.

Oddly, Castiel seemed to agree and they drank in silence for a while. Bobby gave up on conversation and set about his maps and blueprints, while Castiel drank himself steadily into a stupor. Even running out of one bottle didn’t stop him, he started on the next without pause. When he eventually sagged so far down in his seat that he was almost lying in the arm chair with his legs sprawled out and his face buried in his hand while he dangled the tin cup from the other, Bobby knew he wasn’t likely to get him out of here until this moodiness passed.

The front door banged open and brought with it a hot breeze and the Winchester brothers. Sam tossed a bag onto the couch while Dean hung up a pair of hunting rifles. “Bobby! Where’s the…” Sam broke off the moment he saw Castiel slumped in a chair. “…keys?”

“Hey boys, glad you could stop in and help me with your sulky friend here,” Bobby grumbled. Castiel groaned and didn’t lift his head. “He’s been drinking me out of the house.”

“Cass? We haven’t seen you in over a few weeks.” Dean shrugged off his leather jacket before he pulled a chair up beside him. “What happened, buddy?”

Castiel shook his head. “Nothing.”

“It ain’t nothing and you know it,” Bobby grumbled and he looked at the Winchesters. “Cas got stung by a lady.”

“Really? What’s her name? How’d she get you to fall outside that religious schtick you got into?” Sam teased. When Castiel removed his hand and revealed his bloodshot eyes, he swallowed. “Jesus.”

Knowing that the drunk wouldn’t be likely to tell a coherent story, Bobby retold it from him and watched as Dean and Sam both gave Castiel sympathetic looks. Even Dean, who had been against the Masters girl from the get go, seemed upset for him.

“It’s over and done with,” Castiel said, rubbing at his face. “We solved the blackmail problem. Today Crowley took payment and destroyed the pictures he had. Not sure what Father threatened him with but he backed off.”

“Cass, you’re allowed to be upset,” Bobby said, and Dean gave him a sharp look. “It happened three weeks ago though. You need to bounce back. Stuff like this happens all the time.”

Castiel didn’t look at any of them, instead choosing to stare at his cup where only a drop of bourbon remained. “I can’t just forget,” he muttered.

Dean gave Sam a troubled look before reaching out to put his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Cass, you had to know it wasn’t going to end well.”

“What do you even care?” Castiel demanded. “You hated her.”

Dean pulled his hand back and ran his fingers through his cropped hair. “Look, if you liked her, I get it. But damn it, Cass, she was no good from the start.”

“You didn’t put Sam off Ruby,” was the snappy answer that made him sigh. Bobby shook his head as well and Sam chuckled.

“Cass, I can handle myself. Yeah, I was a bit blind for a bit but she showed her true colours after a while when her mom came by to try to extort us too,” he explained.

“What did you do?” Bobby asked.

“Can’t extort someone who has no money and doesn’t care about his reputation,” Sam pointed out. Dean agreed but his attention was on Castiel who looked mildly crushed that they were treating him so roughly.

“Look, we can’t stay,” he began and Bobby gave him a quick look. Dean gave him a confused one in return as he continued, “We’re going up to Kentucky to one of the mines. There’s rumour of some communist leanings and the government’s hired the Singer company to take a look. Intel, that sort of thing.”

Castiel put his head back in his hand and closed his eyes.

“You could come with us for a while. Be a few months’ worth of a job but it might help,” Sam offered. “You could just get it out of your head. See there’s more to life out there than this.”

Dean cleared his throat. “Sam, I don’t know if…”

“Thank you,” Castiel said without looking at them. “I’d like to come.”

Bobby and Dean shared a long look and the younger man immediately covered his hesitation. “Yeah, be like old times,” he said with a strained grin.

Castiel finally did remove his hand and gave them all a smile that did nothing to ease their concern. He looked, Bobby thought, as if he no longer gave a damn.

“Thank you, all of you,” Castiel began and Dean waved him quiet.

“Before you know it, we’ll be back here and you’ll have forgotten all about Meg Masters, you have my word.”

 


	15. Town without Pity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After years of being away, Castiel returns home to Harrow with the Winchesters. The gossip has died, the 60s have started, and he is sure he can start again. But old hurts die hard and he isn't the only one who has returned to Harrow.

_Harrow, Kansas - Fall, 1962_

 

The long drive up to the Shurley house was now grown over with overhanging sycamore branches and thick shrubs planted decades before were so lush that they hid the neighbouring lots. But every rut and bump on the road was familiar and as Castiel let his truck ease into the gravel with a crunch, he smiled. Even though the Shurleys could have moved to larger farms, they hadn’t and it had been a relief to Castiel. His childhood home still was a comforting and reliable sight after being away so long. The overgrown pastures, the apple orchard, the vines crawling over the fence posts, the carefully tended gardens, and the trails leading to the woods in the back were all familiar. Reaching out, Castiel turned down the radio from its loud twangy country and pulled into the car space beside the porch.

Beside him, Hannah Johnson took a quick snap of the garden with a Rolleiflex and then smiled at the picturesque white board house. “It’s lovely,” she said. “You grew up here?”

Castiel killed the engine and leaned forward to look out the window. “Most of my life until I left for the war and then when I left again in ’55.”

“How could you leave this?” she asked, turning to give him a friendly smile. Castiel didn’t answer, just smiled and shook his head. Hannah cranked her camera a few notches and nodded at the quiet windows. “You did tell your father I’d be a guest this time, right?”

“He shouldn’t mind. He assigned you to me in the first place,” he pointed out as he picked up his coat from the seat and slid from the driver side. Hannah followed, her neat figure a contrast to his more rumpled clothing. It had been a long drive from Austin and it showed in his tired eyes and stubbly cheeks, though his companion was remarkably fresh looking. Hannah leaned against the truck side and tilted her head back to absorb the autumn sunlight pouring in.

“It will be nice for a break.”

“It will,” he agreed as he retrieved the bags from the truck bed and handed her one. “I haven’t rested in seven years.”

“You really need it then.” Hannah’s bright eyes lingered on his face. “You should have left the driving to me. I heard you in the motel you know, writing all night.”

“Government reports don’t write themselves,” Castiel answered and she nudged him with her shoulder affectionately. “You didn’t have to come.”

The light in her eyes faded a little. “I needed to get away. Joe and I need time away from each other. Playa Girón did some havoc on us both.” She cocked a grin at him to try to erase her own sadness. “You make me think you don’t want me around, Castiel.”

“Oh,” Castiel flushed. “I’m sorry. Wasn’t my intention. You know I like working with you.”

Hannah’s eyes lingered on his face. “I hoped.”

Castiel gave her a curious look but said nothing. Hannah had been very quiet in the long drive up here and it was good to see her returning to more spirited form. “Perhaps a hotel…?” he began and then realized how it sounded. Hannah raised both brows and he knew she’d misinterpreted that. He looked away for help and found it in the older redheaded woman coming to the door.

“Castiel?” Olivia called as she let the door bang shut behind herself. He dropped his bag just as she launched herself down the stairs and into his arms, holding him close. “Oh, it is so good to see you!”

She kissed his cheek and Castiel held her back, unused to such affection from his mother. Her absentminded love for her children had never been so demonstrative. But she was his mother and he loved her, so he simply squeezed her tight and kissed her temple, inhaling familiar gardenia perfume.

“How long has it been?” Olivia asked as she drew back, running her hands over his shoulders and face.

“Seven years, I think,” Castiel said. “I had work to do.”

“So your father told me. All state secrets and mercenary work. I heard all about the Rockefeller scandal, you know. Very clandestine. Very exciting,” she said with a wink. She let him go and faced Hannah. “And this is…?”

“Hannah Johnson, this is my mother, Olivia Shelly Shurley. Mother, Hannah Johnson. She’s a photographer and assistant that Father assigned to the Winchesters and myself a few months ago.”

“Johnson…oh, your husband was involved in that skirmish in the east, according to Charles.”

Hannah winced. “Yes, ma’am.” She looked at Castiel. “Many war veterans are becoming involved in trying to prevent a crisis there and elsewhere.”

“War is war,” Olivia said darkly. “And every time we go to prevent one, another begins.”

“Careful,” Castiel said as he picked up his bag again. “That’s no way for a representative’s wife to talk.”

“As if your father could stop me,” Olivia said stuffily. “You know how this family feels over war.”

When she turned and stormed up the steps, Hannah gave Castiel a wide-eyed look that he shrugged at. “She’s very passionate about disagreeing with my father.”

She chuckled and followed him in.

The house smelt of jasmine and lavender, autumn leaves and apples, and the moment he set Hannah’s bag down, Castiel sighed in relief. Nothing had really changed. He turned to his mother as Hannah came beside him. “Mother, I did speak to Father and he said Hannah could stay here for her vacation.”

“Of course. She can have a guest room in the front and I’ll love the company during my off hours. Your father isn’t exactly around. He’s away for work so often.” Olivia headed for the parlour to pour herself a drink. “Your aunt Mara is in Europe you know. Doing God knows what.”

Castiel followed her and took a glass of bourbon for himself. The gesture made her stare in surprise but she said nothing. Instead, she rounded on Hannah who was staring around herself with interest. Olivia pursed her red lips and cocked her head on the side as she took in the slight brunette.

“So, this partnership of yours is working? Should I be setting extra places at the dinner table every night?” Olivia asked and Castiel blinked in confusion. Hannah stammered. “No shame in it. Women’s liberation and all that.”

“Mother, have you been drinking?” Castiel demanded and she shushed him.

“Cass and I are working together, covering as journalists. I act as secretary for the Winchesters on their cases,” Hannah said with a kind smile that didn’t quite match how her voice shook. “That’s all.”

Olivia eyed her. “Shame. Castiel always could use some trouble.” Hannah chortled as Castiel nearly went white. Olivia gestured at the table where his father’s ledger was. “I have to work on his diary. Be a dear and show Hannah a room, would you? Then go see your sister. She’ll be over the moon you are in Harrow again.”

Side-eyeing his rather tipsy parent, Castiel nodded and took Hannah by the elbow after picking up a bag. They headed up the squeaky stairs and she took in the sparse walls. “No photos?” she asked.

“Father ripped them down,” Castiel said, not wanting to discuss that drunken night Luke had been thrown into prison for good for his mischief and treason. “To your left.”

They came to a large, comfortable room near the front of the house on the second floor. It had recently been aired out and was refreshingly cool. Castiel set her bag on the bed and retreated back to the door. Hannah did a pivot around the white painted room and then turned toward him.

“I hope you’ll be comfortable. That file we were working on was enough trouble to last us a lifetime,” he said when she simply stared at him. Hannah ran her fingers over the chenille trim on a drape and parted it a little to let the sun in. “You’ll like it here.”

“Not you?” Hannah asked finally. At his look she gestured around. “I thought you would stay here as well.”

Castiel shook his head. “No. I can’t stay here. Too many memories. I have a place in town. There’s a Ford in the garage you can use or you can call me as well. It will be good for you to not work for a few weeks before your next assignment.”

“Work, right.” Hannah nodded. “I won’t know what to do with myself, Castiel. I have never had a vacation before, what with the government contracts and…” Flustered, she shook her head before changing the subject. “I heard you didn’t want to come back here. Why? Your family?”

Castiel didn’t meet her eyes. “Something like that. I need to go speak to my sister. Shower and change. Dean and Sam invited us to a local spot for drinks and we could both use the change in scenery.”

She saluted him. “Aye aye, Captain,” she jibed softly.

He rolled his eyes at the old joke. “I’ll be around when you are done.”

Castiel headed out and down the hall, aware of Hannah coming to the door to watch him. He knew Hannah was hurting badly and hiding it, something she wasn’t very good at, but their relationship was a friendship that tended to be based on not asking more questions than needed. He’d resented her appearance at first but she had stubbornly insisted she was there to help him and the Winchesters, even after all those the missions they had covertly went on for the better part of seven years by themselves. It hadn’t been for very long before they all had received word that the missions were likely to be over. Now that they had earned rest, that they had been effectively dismissed from duty, he had decided to get Hannah away from her hometown and hope she would gain perspective as to what she could do with her life.

The job had taken a lot from many of them but with little to lose, Castiel had thrown himself into it and he didn’t quite understand anyone who didn’t do the same. It had started with a simple mission in Kentucky, a quick paying job that had gotten them snared by the government, and now it was seven years later and he wasn’t much better off for it, save for a few scars.

His father had insisted his own people go along to help, under the guise of them being journalists, and the latest, Hannah, had been the only one to not break under the pressure.

Castiel was glad for her friendship though he hid it behind his aloofness.

He heard soft voices in Anna’s suite and ran his fingers through his ruffled hair to fix it before knocking. There was a scuffling sound and then Anna’s wispy voice calling for him to come in. Castiel pushed open the white door and stared at his sister.

“Anna,” he said for a simple greeting.

Anna’s eyes widened. “Cass!” she called out, holding out her arms from where she sat on the chair. Castiel only had eyes for her and swept in to hug her tight. Anna was pulling at his jacket and whispering lighthearted words, squeezing him back just as tightly. He was aware of how fragile she still was but her grip was strong enough.

“How’ve you been?” he asked against her crown.

“Still alive, I suppose that counts for something,” she sniffled as he pulled back. They smiled at each other but then he saw her eyes dart over his shoulder. The clatter behind Castiel made him turn to see a slim brunette dressed in grey with her back to him, fixing a coffee tray. His heart began to hammer hard, something he forgot could happen, and he clutched Anna’s hands so hard that she murmured and pulled them away before he could hurt her. The woman ignored them and poured out coffee with a practiced hand.

“Cass?” Anna asked. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Castiel whispered and he turned away from the caretaker’s silhouette to take a seat on the ottoman opposite his sister. Her pale face was gaunt and pinched with pain, but she smiled all the same. Castiel forced himself to focus solely on her. “I managed to get your letters. You said a few months ago that you finished your book?”

Anna nodded. “I’m likely to get published. They liked the mystery I wrote. But I want to know about you, Cass. What the hell happened? One minute you were here, the next you were gone!”

“I needed to leave,” he replied. “I just… I needed to go. It was good that I did. Dean and Sam needed my help. I just didn’t expect it to take seven years.”

“And now you’re back,” Anna said with clear delight. She nearly shook with it and he had to wonder why. “But you can’t mean to be a reverend again, Cass. I mean, I’m hoping you don’t have big plans. The church you helped with was abandoned last year when that scandal with Mr. Hopper and his embezzling came to light. From what I heard he took the rich snobs to the cleaners.”

He’d heard that from his father so he wasn’t shocked that Anna was taking such obvious relish in the scandal of it all. “I don’t mean to start that again. I think it is safe to say I don’t have the faith or the stomach to go into preaching once more.”

“Good,” Anna said with a nod. “You weren’t happy there. All of us knew that.”

Castiel opened his mouth to answer but a coffee cup appeared at his shoulder in his peripheral vision and brought him to a quick halt. He swallowed and followed the well-manicured hand up to the woman offering him the coffee. Anticipation made his face feel hot and flushed, but disappointment drained him of it.

His stomach roiled when it wasn’t Meg Masters but her sister, Ruby, staring down at him. Her dark, amused eyes roamed over his face. “I know you, don’t I?” Ruby asked as she tilted her head on the side.

Castiel looked sharply at his sister who nodded. “Ruby Masters, this is my brother, Castiel. Cass, Ruby.”

“We’ve met. Long time ago.” At the brunette’s look he waved a hand. “Through a mutual acquaintance: Sam Winchester.”

Ruby’s face went scarlet. “Oh, yes. Right. God, that was years ago. I haven’t talked to him in over seven years. How is he?”

“Fine. He’s in town now with his brother.” Castiel said no more. He had heard enough from Sam to know that his friend wouldn’t want Ruby to know the details of his life at all. “Why are you here?”

Something in his tone made both women look almost guilty.

“Well, about five years ago, I was in a bad way. Mother remembered how well I did with…” Anna dropped her eyes away from Castiel. “She put a notice up in town and Ruby answered the ad and she was the only one I liked.”

Shyly, she smiled at the dark-haired woman and Castiel saw such hopeful warmth in that gaze between them that he felt embarrassed and awkward watching it.

“I needed a job,” Ruby explained. “Anything was better than what I’d been doing for years.”

“Why? I thought you enjoyed your other work,” Castiel said scathingly. Ruby took no offence and merely shrugged and took her eyes away from Anna.

“You don’t know what happened, eh?” Ruby asked, looking more than a little amused by his reaction to her.

“What’s that mean?” he demanded.

“Summer of ’56 Mother got on the wrong side of one of our marks. It got her killed in a back alley one night. Probably would have gotten me killed too if it wasn’t for Crowley taking me in. Didn’t last though. He was leaving town after what went on between Bobby Singer and him. Big hush hush but I heard it was bad. Bobby burned that place of Crowley’s and ran him out of town, don’t ask me how. I got left behind.” Ruby took a sip of coffee and Castiel noticed how her hand shook. “I work for your family and it got me away. Can’t say I don’t miss the easy money though.”

“God forbid you earn your keep,” Anna teased and the other woman winked at her.

Castiel rubbed at his scruffy cheek. He had to ask. He had to know. “What…what about…” He sighed, unable to say what he wanted. Ruby watched him until he finally blurted out, “Your sister.”

“You can say her name,” Ruby sneered. “Her name won’t soil your precious reputation. Meg. Remember her? She remembered you, I bet.”

Castiel’s blue eyes snapped icy daggers at her but she didn’t cower from him. Years of abuse from men had made her daring instead of afraid. Gently, Anna reached out and touched his hand to distract him but he was focussed on Ruby. She held his gaze until it was clear he wasn’t about to let it go and she caved, just a little.

“Haven’t seen her since winter of ’55. Got a few letters in ’56 of where to send her things but it was PO boxes in the next town over. After that? Nothing. For all I know, Meg’s dead,” Ruby said but her careful callousness made Castiel suspicious that she wasn’t exactly telling him the truth. The way Anna refused to look at him made him sure that there was more. But Ruby’s hostility was beginning to show through the cracks of her levity.

If anything, he knew better than to press a Masters’ girl when she didn’t want to deal with questions. Meg had taught him that.

So he turned the questions to Anna instead and began probing her past seven years with brotherly concern while deftly ignoring Ruby. She didn’t seem to care and kept quiet, sipping her coffee and devouring a sandwich. Anna had left so much out of her letters that Castiel learned, gently unravelling the story, that she had gone to spend time in the hospital again until her father had had enough of doctors experimenting on her. Her survival years before had been a miracle in the first place but her depression had been crippling her. At home, Chuck figured, she would at least be able to make a show of improving.

Realizing it hurt her to retell it all, Castiel changed the subject to her books and Anna finally became animated and excited, telling him about her submissions to publishers. Her skin flushed and her eyes sparkled and Castiel let her ramble for a long time about her plans.

It wasn’t until Anna made a faint yawning sound that Ruby spoke. “Time for a nap,” she insisted, standing up and blocking Castiel completely.

“But Cass,” Anna protested. Ruby turned toward him, gave him an imperious once-over, and then looked back down at her charge. She finally moved to the side and pointed to the bed.

“He can come by later. Come on.”

Castiel leaned forward and kissed Anna’s forehead. “I’ll be around. I’m in town for a while. Get some rest,” he whispered against her clammy skin. Anna sighed and nodded, watching the easy way he moved with jealous and resigned hunger, and Castiel tried not to notice.

He hadn’t realized how much his absence must have hurt the only person to have missed him in Harrow.

#

The Limbo was a rough and tumble bar tucked behind an old abandoned factory. Coupled with loud music and cheap booze flowing freely, it had been a roaring success if not a slightly illegal one. The female owner, a rarity in this town, was a vivacious redhead named Abby who had a reputation for being a hard ass and running an operation sordid enough to rival Crowley’s. She kept out of the way of the Singer Company interests and so she’d been allowed to flourish in a profession usually reserved for men. So long as people obeyed her rules, her bar was open to everyone.

When Castiel and Hannah entered the side door, she looked up from her card table, squinted at them, then looked back down with obvious disinterest. A stack of money was in front of her and her flaming red lips were curved into a vicious smile. Her five companions reminded Castiel of Crowley’s brutes but he shrugged that memory off and guided Hannah through the smoke and crowd to the tables near the dance floor where the Winchesters waited.

Sam was looking half asleep as he played idly with a switchblade but he nearly leapt up when he saw them. “Cass!” He rose and clamped his hand on Castiel’s shoulder before drawing him in for a quick embrace. “You made it to Harrow after all.”

“Little choice not to,” Hannah muttered but she smiled at Sam. With his longer hair and wry grin, he simply seemed far more easy going than Castiel and he had always gone out of his way to help her in the past. When she looked around, she frowned at the filling dance floor. “Isn’t that your brother?”

They all turned to see Dean leaning over a leggy brunette in an overly tight red dress. He was nearly drooling and the girl was pressed head to toe against him, her hair pulled back from her face in pinned rolls.

“Looks about right,” Sam said. “If he’s not careful, he’ll catch something.”

Both Castiel and Hannah managed not to laugh. The music was starting to drift in and people were pairing up automatically, while Castiel helped Hannah find her seat and he took one facing the door just to be careful. Ever since a bad episode in Virginia, he never left his back so open. With a knowing smile, Sam handed him a stubby bottle of beer and a glass of bourbon before turning to Hannah, who held her RC bottle close to protect it from being spiked.

“Do you like Harrow?” he asked as he sipped his own drink. Hannah shrugged.

“Haven’t seen much of it. Cass put me up at his parents’ place but I’m sure I can weasel out a few tours from him,” she said with a wink to Castiel, who was oblivious as he looked around the growing crowd. A blonde with her back to him was blocking the view, her diamond black lace dress swinging back and forth as she rocked with the music. Castiel nearly asked her to move but his politeness didn’t allow him to be so daring. Instead, he sighed and tried to catch Dean’s attention. Sam noticed his distraction.

“Did you see Anna?” he pressed loudly and Castiel jerked around.

“She’s well as could be expected. She’s starting to go for publishing,” he said with a smile.

“Not bad. Gives her something to do.”

“She’s got Ruby helping her, did you know that?” Castiel asked.

Sam raised his brows but didn’t react all that much. “Maybe she’s flying straight.”

“I hope so. If she hurts my sister…,” Castiel dropped off. Hannah heard the threatening note in his voice and looked at Sam in question. Sam wiggled his fingers against his glass and smiled in her direction.

“Ruby’s got a checkered past.”

“Who doesn’t these days?” Hannah joked as she patted her neatly styled hair and smoothed her blouse down. “Except Castiel, of course. He’s so clean I wonder if he ever washes.”

Castiel flinched and he knew Sam was watching him with open sympathy. Hannah, like so many in their organization, assumed Castiel was merely a soldier by nature and their friendship was strongly based on that. His misdeeds were better kept quiet and the Winchesters had done so without question.

Finally, abandoning a girl who bore a rather remarkable resemblance to the First Lady, Dean came over to their table and plunked himself down between Sam and Hannah. He looked flushed and excited, lips pursed as he whistled wolfishly.

“Job well done?” Sam asked.

Dean smirked and produced a scrap of paper with lipstick-written numbers. “Four digits from four babes. It’s great. Love this joint.” He looked at Hannah. “How’re you doing, angel face? Keeping out of trouble?”

Hannah made a show of edging away from him. “Sounds like you’re getting into it for all of us.”

“That’s me. Regular old troublemaker,” Dean taunted as he reached out and stole Sam’s beer. “Good thing we decided not to go cruising after all.”

Castiel rubbed at his ears. “The noise is very intense,” he muttered, aware of the ringing echo in his head. Closing his eyes, he counted to ten to slow his racing heart and when he reopened them there were more drinks on the table and Hannah was nearly done her cola. Dean handed her another and held up his own bottle high between them.

“Here’s to Marilyn, God rest her soul. Never seen a wiggle like hers and never will again,” Dean leered and Hannah gave him an amused look as she clinked her bottle with his. Apparently Dean was still drinking in memory of the ill-fated Monroe actress he had lusted after. Sam and Castiel followed suit, both grimacing at the strength of their drinks, before kicking back in their seats and staring around the bar.

“Any word on what happened to Crowley?” Sam asked Dean and his brother shrugged, having to talk louder than ever as the music began to boom and people took to the dance floor across from them.

“Bobby was pretty tightlipped. Apparently there was an ‘incident’ involving Crowley’s goons and the Trans. When he demanded Crowley compensate for the damage they did to the soda shop, so that they could start again, Crowley took to hiding and claiming he was dirt poor. Then he tried to burn the yard down. So Bobby took it on himself to smoke Crowley out of his hiding hole. Ran him out, but the less we know the better apparently. So here we are. Without Crowley and with a sexy redhead manning this joint.” Dean was eyeballing Abby in the corner but the woman was more concerned with tossing out a drunk away from her poker table. Castiel shook his head.

“And you say I go looking for trouble.”

“It is okay to look for trouble,” Dean corrected, “but you need to know when to let go before you get burned.”

Castiel looked away from the gentle reminder. Harrow was a hard place to be in when it was so full of memories that caused so much heartache for all of them. It was a place they’d grown up and a place they’d abandoned at first chance. A place that kept drawing them back. He resumed picking at his bottle’s half-peeled label and half-listened to the conversation between the Winchesters and Hannah about the last assignment, about this forced retirement the government was using to save face about their involvement in the far East. He’d heard it all before and it was nothing new.

The laughter was loud from the dance floor and Castiel ignored it until he saw a flash of vivid colour. Turning, he faced the floor and stared in open-mouthed wonder at the group of men and women dancing. Dancing far closer than any he had seen before. It was near on an act of sex when compared to the chaste line dances he’d been raised with. The strange mixture of blues and rock was driving them closer and closer and he heard laughter and joking as the pairs carried on without care. Everyone was having the time of their lives and Castiel felt awkward and out of place.

“Well, it ain’t the Twist, that’s for sure,” Dean commented as he watched as well. Sam snorted.

“Next thing you know we’ll be dragged up doing one of those teen dances.” He groaned. “I’m glad I never danced.”

“Too much for me. I only ever figured out the waltz,” Hannah agreed, chuckling as a girl squealed when she was spun around. The purple flashed by again and drew Castiel’s eye.

The sight was something that made the world slowly grind to a halt around Castiel.

He spotted a large bear of a man with his arms wrapped around the petite blonde who had blocked Castiel before, spinning her this way and that before drawing her near. They were laughing as they danced and the sound was piercing even through the music. The pair wrapped around one another as the music began to speed up, her thighs bracketing his, and they began to move as the crowd whooped and hollered. When she was spun in a circle, she faced them before being drawn back in again, her leg hitching around his hip as they spun around. Her tousled blonde hair was like a shining beacon in the smoky room and her laughter was loud, drawing attention. Her partner twisted her in his arms so that she turned her back to him, and let him lead her hips into a hypnotic sway as the music began to drop again.

It was Meg in the arms of another man. Even though she was blonde now, even though fashions had changed a little, Castiel knew it was her. He’d know her anywhere.

Castiel felt his heart drop to his knees when the couple turned toward them before Meg was dipped backward and her lace dress hiked up her knees, flashing a purple slip and slim legs. She was laughing with clear enjoyment even as they pressed close and moved with the grinding rhythm that was like a low throb in the room, the crowd around them as into as they were. Dipped low once more, Meg threw her arms overhead as the large hand supporting her back swept along her bared thigh and then past to her knee. Her partner pulled her back up until they were pressed together again and they began to chatter to one another over the music, her arms around the man’s neck as he cupped her hips.

“Shit,” Dean muttered. “What the hell is she doing here?”

Hannah turned to see what the Winchesters and Castiel were gaping at and frowned. “Pretty girl. Who is she?”

“A ghost,” Castiel whispered. She gave him a puzzled look but he couldn’t rip his eyes away from Meg. She’d abandoned her ill-fitting dresses for well-tailored and downright sexy clinginess, and the blonde hair made her seem downright sultry with her waves settling just above her bare shoulders. Her partner swung her around and she went with a laugh, her heels flashing as he all but picked her up and spun her again.

“Glad to see some things don’t change,” Dean said. He saw Hannah’s confusion and tried to cover his attitude with a glib smile. “We knew her back in the day.”

“She’s having fun,” Hannah pointed out. “Why wouldn’t you let her have that? Though I admit… her style is rather unique.”

“Definitely not the Mashed Potato either,” Sam observed over the loud beat. “Can you imagine her getting away with that at a church dance?”

“Very funny. From what I hear, dances are just getting closer and closer anyway. Won’t see me dancing anyway though,” Dean said but he was turning his attention to Castiel, who had downed his drink and was starting on another. “Hey, you okay?”

Castiel didn’t answer but he also didn’t look away as Meg moved on to another partner, a tall dark man who spun her about with a twist of his own hips and then into the arms of her first partner. They shifted back into each other’s arms, his hands around her waist as she pressed fully against him, legs bracketed by his as he dipped her once more. The act was uncomfortably familiar and Castiel told himself to look away but he lacked the will. They moved with sensual exuberance that made all other dancing seem like a church-issued two-step. Meg’s face was glowing with exertion and her grin was wicked, but she also seemed so utterly happy that Castiel instantly resented this easy-going girl more than he intended.

He downed another drink and started on a fourth despite Hannah’s concerned cough.

The muscled man brought her around the group when everyone began to settle into two lines as the song changed to a more familiar and sedate stroll, and he led her off to the side. Castiel watched as they approached the bar and then turned back to the table once more to face his friends’ concerned faces.

“What?” he demanded. Hannah deftly took his keys off the table and slipped them into her purse. Dean put his hand on Castiel’s arm, jerking his head to the door.

“Want to book it?”

“Why?” Castiel felt the pleasant warmth spreading through his body as his world spun a little. Four drinks in under ten minutes had been a poor choice, he thought too late, and he fuzzily considered Dean’s green-eyed gaze as if it consumed his attention. Truthfully, he found it hard to stop the room from spinning. “We’re here to unwind, ‘member?”

“Yeah, sure,” Dean said with a frown. “Why don’t you go get some air? We’ll see if we can get some water on the table for you.”

“I’m fine,” Castiel insisted. “Not like I drank a liquor cabinet, you know. We’ve been in dry counties for months. Kansas, right?”

“Yeah, that’s right,” Sam agreed to Castiel’s rambling. He pushed his chair back and put his hand on the back of Hannah’s. “Go on, Cass, and get some air. I’ll keep Hannah safe.”

She grinned. “I think I’ll keep you safe, Sam Winchester.”

Castiel didn’t hear his response as he lurched up out of his seat and headed for the door. Dean called to him but he kept moving, aware of how his world was violently off-kilter. He made it to the emergency exit and shoved his way out through the people standing in the doorway. A blast of autumn chill nearly sobered him immediately and he sucked in a lungful as he went to the patio railing and felt his stomach turn. The nausea settled back like a hard ball in his abdomen and he coughed, raking his hands through his sweated hair. He felt as if he’d run a ten mile course with full pack.

“You know, cherie, you bring out the best in me,” a smooth Louisiana accent drawled near him, echoed by the loud, long drag on a cigarette. Castiel closed his eyes as he was passed close behind and he felt the brush of a skirt against his leg.

“Come on, Benny, you really think I believe that?” Meg’s teasing lilt made Castiel open his eyes. She hadn’t seen him but he could feel her just behind him. “You just got to Harrow and you’re so easy to impress.”

“Well, it ain’t Gary Bonds but it’ll do in a pinch.” Benny jostled up beside Castiel near the rail, blowing out smoke. Castiel turned his head away and hoped he could just disappear. The cigarette smoke was making him feel sicker than the booze.

“You know how I feel about dancing with a handsome fella like you. Don’t do it that often anymore since I’m always working. Glad you came out for a few hours. I was getting bored,” Meg said. “Come on, let’s go back. You owe me a dance.”

“You’re making me glad I came up here though Kansas isn’t exactly my cuppa. They do wicked things to a man like me,” Benny grumbled. Castiel heard Meg chuckle, a throaty growl compared to the high-pitched trills all around them, and he groaned as he sagged against the rail when his world spun again. He hoped he went unnoticed but a weighty hand came to his shoulder.

“You all right, bud? Too many brews?” Benny asked.

“I’m fine,” Castiel snapped but he heard Meg’s retreating footsteps stop at the sound of his voice.

It was inevitable, he knew it, and Castiel turned around slowly until he saw Meg up close for the first time in seven years. The impact of it was startling. He’d thought it’d be easy to forget but her face was so firmly imprinted upon him that he knew he was staring like a starved man. She hadn’t really aged, though her makeup was less overt and far more seductive, and her blonde tousled hair really did make her seem more fey-like. Everything about her wrecked his desperate attempt at calm and she hadn’t said a word.

Meg’s hand dropped to her side and her cigarette fell to the patio floor uselessly. “Castiel,” she said, brown eyes wide. “I thought you’d left forever.”

Castiel swallowed down the urge to say something more than, “Hello, Meg.”

He looked at her partner in question. Benny was a tall man but it was his build that made him seem so large. His deep-set eyes were playful but also probing. He looked between the two of them, saw something, and grinned. “Old friends, I take it?”

Meg cleared her throat. “Something like that.”

“Not exactly,” Castiel said at the same time. Meg arched a brow but didn’t comment. “What are you doing here?”

“Dancing.” She looked over her shoulder. “Benny Lafitte. This is Castiel Shurley.”

Benny held out his hand but Castiel ignored it in favour of staring down at Meg. “You’re looking well,” he said, fighting not to slur his words.

“You look rough as hell,” she answered without rancour. “Haven’t seen you in so long. Been working?”

“Something like that. Honest work,” he said, an edge of mockery in his voice that he couldn’t drunkenly contain. “‘scuse me. I need to get a drink.”

He pushed between them and heard Meg’s annoyed sigh. Even as he staggered through the door and up to the bar, ordering a bourbon on rocks the second he was looked at, Castiel was aware of Meg following him with Benny at her side. Before he could grab his drink when it was slid down to him, Meg took it from the bar-top and dangled it away from him as she leaned an elbow on the rail.

“You’re blitzed,” she snapped when he protested. “And ready to fall over.”

“I can handle my liquor. Give it here.”

“Make me,” she said. Glaring down at her, Castiel took a menacing step forward and she backed up in surprise, colliding with Benny who grasped her shoulders protectively. Castiel shot them both a dark look and plucked the glass from her hand with a flourish.

“I’m trying to have a decent night out,” he explained. “Not that I expect you to understand decent, Meg.”

“Whoa now,” Benny interrupted. “No need to get so personal there. Relax.”

Castiel ignored him and turned to the bar. Abby was watching them all and the warning in her eyes and tight-pressed lips restrained him from hitting the man behind him like he wanted to. Behind him, he heard Meg and Benny carrying on a hushed conversation that he knew was about him. So he tried to drink to ignore them but Meg pushed up beside him and ordered a drink as Benny disappeared into the crowd. Hyper-aware for her presence, he kept sipping until the booze settled uncomfortably in his stomach and made him feel sick again.

“Cass, you never used to really drink. This the new you?” she asked once she was poured a gimlet cocktail. By the time her fingers were around the glass, he was already half done and feeling the world spinning once more.

“I started seven years ago after everything happened.”

“That’s my fault then?” Meg asked before she took a sip. She hummed and smirked at their reflections in the bar mirror. “I must be pretty damn good at making alcoholics then.”

Castiel swung toward her and she backed up a step, something that made him frown as he focussed on her as best he could. Meg had always stepped up to his challenges, to any challenge from anyone. Even now she wasn’t cowering but instead she was seeming to put distance between them deliberately. It didn’t put him off. Castiel kept moving until they were at the end of the bar, a wall at her back, and he set his finished glass back down on the bar. As he put a hand on the bar to balance himself, he saw the interest in her expression.

“Thought you old reverend types hated to drink,” Meg said and Castiel grunted.

“What I do isn’t your business.” He blinked to clear the stars out of his vision and winced as the movement made his head hurt. The music wasn’t helping his fast approaching headache.

Meg rolled her eyes. “So much for a ‘hey how’ve you been’ but I guess that was reaching.”

“We didn’t part as friends, remember?” Castiel demanded. “I was a job. You got what you wanted and I got what I wanted.”

Her annoyed expression didn’t really change but he did see how her lips tightened a little. He stared so hard at her mouth that he swayed forward into her and Meg put her hand on his chest to keep him back. Her lip curled in disgust at the smell of his breath.

“You need to sober up. I’m not talking to you like this,” she snapped. Castiel blocked her from moving and stepped closer until they were chest to chest. Meg sucked in a deep breath and stared up at him, her eyes very dark, and drunk as he was Castiel felt that spark for the first time in years. He was sure she felt it as well. It was like being snared by a trap that he didn’t know he could escape. That aching stir of attraction that had entranced him the first time back when he had been a nobler man snared him again.

Now he was a man who barely knew who he was. Philosophical questions were out of reach for him when clarity was already leaping from the window, let alone when he trying to get drunk enough to deny the staggering reality of having her before him again. Common sense wasn’t possible with her this close and he decided to charge ahead with a half-baked plan to make her see the hurt she’d dealt him years ago. If only the world would stop turning so fast, Castiel thought and he reached out toward her.

“I barely slept without you, you know. Too many nightmares,” he slurred suddenly and he poked at her with a finger. Meg batted the offensive finger away but didn’t try to escape him. Castiel tried hard to see only one of her as he swayed back and forth. “And I did try to sleep with someone else but never went through with it.”

“That’s not my problem,” Meg snapped as she went to move by. Castiel’s arm lashed out and blocked her in against the wall. She stared at him in surprise but his drunkenness unleashed something he had long since buried.

“Not that you care. That’s just your calling, right? I bet you fucked with lots of guys and were able to forget all about me. Should have known.” He swallowed down the bile in his throat and focussed on her as the vicious words kept coming despite himself. The alcohol loosened his control and he blurted out, “Come on, Meg. How many men did you trade your body with? Can I count that high?”

 


	16. You don’t know me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As old wounds lie reopened, Castiel learns just how devilish the gossip has been in Harrow while Meg keeps a low profile.

Before he could duck, Meg lashed out and her palm smacked across his cheek with a loud crack. The impact sent a sharp pain into his skull at full force and almost snapped him to immediate sobriety. Castiel stumbled, surprised, and let her pass as he cradled his now flaming-hot cheek. There was a faint murmur around him as Meg shoved her way through the crowd, ignoring the people as she headed towards the front door. Castiel watched her leave, debated on following her even, but the side-eying looks around him made it clear that everyone had seen the slap and whispers of gossip were already going through the crowd.

Trying to act as if nothing had happened, he picked up Meg’s discarded drink and then walked to where Dean and Sam were sitting. Meg’s apparent date had joined them and had his arm slung around the back of Dean’s chair. His obvious interest in what had happened obviously wasn’t great enough to make Benny chase down Meg.

“That went well,” Sam joked with a wink. Castiel rubbed his sore cheek and grumbled as he sat. “She looked happy to see you, Cass.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” He glanced at Hannah who was looking fascinated by the handprint on Castiel’s face. “What?”

His snapping tone made her sit back. “Nothing.”

“Grape soda?” Dean asked as he took the cocktail from Castiel’s shaky grip. “Might be a good idea to sober you up.”

Castiel groaned at the thought of more liquor and looked away for a waitress. He didn’t want to brave the crowd again. His eyes fell on the offending man who had danced with Meg and he squinted hard at him, which only caused Benny to grin.

“Castiel Shurley, this is Benny Lafitte, late of Louisiana. He served too.” Dean jerked his head at the man beside him.

“We’ve met.” Benny tipped an imaginary hat and grinned at Castiel, who noticed how Dean was on the edge of his seat around the bigger man. They must have been discussing the wartime, something Dean still was fascinated by. He looked near on giddy and Castiel frowned, not used to having Dean be that eager to talk with anyone lately. Interesting.

“Benny was telling me about his time in Seoul and Tokyo,” Dean explained and he glanced at the other man. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m now a chef in New Orleans. Got my own place. Hole in the wall grease trap but she’s mine.”

Dean nodded. “What are you doing here? With her?”

“Meg? Well, she helped patch me up after I got in this bar fight down in the French Quarter at place called Swan Room. I was a sorry sight, I’m sure, but ma petite was kind enough to help me out. We ended up drinking the night away. Nice gal, didn’t mind hauling my drunk behind around a bit even though she left on the early bus. So a few days ago my place got closed down by cops for serving some…less savoury locals, so while I wait for the heat to cool down, I decided I wanted to see this town she talked about.” Benny grinned and his eyes sparkled at everyone’s confusion. Only Castiel didn’t seem to care about the implication of who Benny really worked with.

“Great, she’s bringing her men here,” Castiel muttered. “Guess I should have guessed.”

“Me? Oh no, cher, I’m far more interested in not being tied down. The ladies and I…we’ve had out disagreements. My ex-wife, Andrea, for example. What a pill. Didn’t like how I did things.” Benny seemed to be watching both Dean and Sam with open amusement now and neither brother looked sure of what to do about it. He looked as if he were deciding which of the brothers was the easiest mark. The big man knew what he was doing and he gave Cas a wink that said he was mostly teasing.

“Oh,” Castiel said in understanding and earned a confused glance from Sam.

“Besides, Cass, you’ve been gone seven years,” Dean pointed out. “What do you care what Meg does?”

“I don’t care.” Castiel avoided Hannah’s knowing eye. “I don’t.”

“Sure, pull the other one and we might believe you,” Sam said before he grinned and took a drink as if to punctuate his point. Castiel glared at him but the room still swam a little and made it hard to focus. Once the grape soda arrived, he sucked the sugary drink down and felt his stomach revolt immediately. His green complexion and uncomfortably loud groan made everyone holler with laughter and it broke the mood so that he smiled along, dismissing all thoughts about Meg and how she’d made him feel.

For a moment, he was lost in the companionship of his friends and the sweetness of forgetting himself for a while.

 

#

 

After waking up hungover on his mother’s couch, Castiel knew he’d be better off never repeating those mistakes of drinking so heavily. His stomach couldn’t handle it, was what he told himself and the lie kept him fairly sober despite the temptation. When the Winchesters invited him out again one night, Castiel shrugged off the requests politely and absorbed himself in helping Anna become the writer she seemed determined to be. He took chunks of her manuscript home with him after his almost daily visits, and between helping Bobby Singer with his rebuilding of his burnt salvage yard and his own editing and reports, he managed to edit the bulk of her short novels until they were polished. Ruby was helping in her way by helping with sending the stories to publishers in hopes that the editors would enjoy the mysteries, as Anna was determined to make her way without her father’s connections. Castiel was leery of working with Ruby but Anna seemed insistent on keeping her involved.

It helped him forget, for a couple of days, that he’d seen Meg and nearly felt like he’d been trampled upon.

He was sure it would only get easier.

Pen in his mouth, Castiel wandered his mother’s front porch as he read over and over again a line that was troubling him. Anna’s foray into noir was proving to be a difficult read and he couldn’t figure out what the problem was. He rolled the pen from side to side with his teeth and shook his head as he stopped at the swing to pick up the next page, folding the corner to remind himself to come back to that previous page. He turned on his heel and headed back the way he’d come, trying to make sense of the typos and grammar.

He was so engrossed that his collision with Hannah made him drop his papers and he reached out to catch her by the shoulders to keep her from falling. Hannah held onto his arms and smiled as he blustered his way through an apology. “Good book?”

“Not especially. Anna is trying a new style and I don’t think it is working,” Castiel explained as he stooped to pick up the papers. He pointedly kept his eyes downward as he tried to find where he had left off and Hannah sighed.

“You’ve been pretty busy but I wanted to know if you could come with me into town. I’d like to go to some spots but I figured you’d need to accompany a,” she explained, voice dropping as she whispered in a conspiratorial tone, “…separated woman and all.”

“And you think being accompanied by me makes you more respectable?” he asked with a wry look. She nodded and he sighed, looking once more at the papers. It had been a while since he had just taken time to work and his growing headache from staring at small type too long was making editing nearly impossible. “I don’t see why not.”

“Great, I’ll get my bag,” Hannah said, beaming at him before heading into the house. Castiel took a seat on the swing and looked out at where his mother was gardening along the deck. He had thought her immersed in her work but her elegant, dirt-smudged face was upturned toward him and her thin brows arched high towards her hairline as she considered him like she might a bug.

Castiel shifted from foot to foot, not liking the look. “What?”

“You’ve been avoiding town, Castiel. Why?”

“I’ve been busy.”

“Busy? Or worried that you might see someone you don’t want to see?” she asked as she turned back to digging with her trowel. Castiel stepped up and leaned over the rail to look down at her. She grinned at his stoic expression. “At breakfast a few days ago, Hannah asked about what happened last time you were in Harrow. She glossed over the details but she mentioned a rather lovely young woman that slapped you the night you came home raging drunk. I can only assume it was Meg.”

Castiel self-consciously touched the cheek Meg had struck and quickly, guiltily, put his hand back on his hip. “You shouldn’t encourage Hannah to gossip.”

“Me? Gossip? You know me better than that, Castiel. I am only interested in the truth.” Olivia’s eyes were glimmering with humour and she ripped a dying weed from beneath her rose bush. “So. How did she look?”

“I wasn’t aware that you cared for Meg,” he pointed out. “You didn’t stop Father from casting her out of the house.”

“Casting her out? What is this? A Tennessee Williams’ play?” she asked, brushing her loose hair away from her cheeks. “I left you to make the right choice, Castiel. You were a grown man.”

He stared at her but Olivia merely seemed so self-assured that she intimidated him a little. “You could have helped me,” he began.

“To do what? It isn’t as if you were in love. She was a girl you were infatuated with. Which I understand. Intimacy can be rather stimulating,” she said without any embarrassment. “Be a dear and hand me that lavender sprout.”

Castiel sighed and came down the steps to help her with her planting.

“I think I was horrible to her at the Limbo. I never drink that much usually,” he said. Olivia snorted as she patted soil around the bit of lavender. “But seeing her again brought back memories of things I shouldn’t have wanted back then.”

“Why not?” his mother asked.

“I was going to be a reverend, wasn’t I? I had every intention of finally committing to it.”

“You had faith, Castiel, but it is a slippery slope to true devotion. I think you were meant for more. In truth, I think Meg did you a favour,” Olivia said as she dug another hole in her garden. “Besides, I know you. You wouldn’t have done it if you didn’t want to in the first place.”

He handed her another lavender plant and watched her, troubled by her insight. “What do you think I should have done?”

Olivia sighed. “It is seven years too late to consider that, Castiel. Suffice to say, I think you should next time consider what it is you want versus what is expected of you.”

Deciding to change the subject, he crouched beside her and stared at her thoughtfully. “Does Father ever come home anymore?”

Olivia stiffened a little but made a face at her plants. “No. He is busy in Washington, of course. That Kennedy boy is making some waves. It is for the best.”

Castiel stared at her, seeing the sadness beneath her cool exterior and had the sudden realization that he didn’t want to be like either of his parents. They had been passionate once but that raging passion had turned to a bitter companionship at the loss of their children and rather than come to terms with their grief they had turned to their own ambitions and against one another. He didn’t doubt they loved each other but he wondered if something had happened in the past seven years to drive them further apart.

Olivia saw his skeptical gaze and gave him a sad smile. “He has a young aide he hired from Harrow. A girl named Becky whom he is very fond of.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. He always returns to me,” Olivia said as she raked her trowel through the dirt with such force that it sprayed onto Castiel’s shoes.

“How can you be so sure?”

“Despite it all, we love each other.” She stood up and brushed her hands on her apron. “Besides, I know a few tricks some two-bit girl from the city doesn’t know. He is due back home around Thanksgiving.”

Her sly wink made Castiel smile and shake his head. “Father won’t know what hit him, I assume?”

She looped her arm through his and led him towards the steps where Hannah was now standing. “Trust me, Castiel, never doubt a woman with a strong will.”

#

Downtown Harrow at three in the afternoon was oddly quiet. It was the autumn air, Castiel supposed as he escorted Hannah down the street, chasing people from the outdoors and inside with the warm comforts of home. The farmers were out settling up the harvests and the migrants were still busy and about to moe on. Harrow was a near ghost town but Castiel didn’t mind. He didn’t like the thought of being stopped on the street like so often happened when someone recognized him from years before.

Hannah sauntered beside him, remarking at the shop windows that were fairly bare. “Harrow isn’t exactly modern,” Castiel remarked when she pointed it out. “But it has its charm.”

She smiled, her eyes on a knitted afghan in the mercantile. “There’s something for homespun charm, Castiel. Maybe you just don’t see it the way I do.”

“I am probably more jaded,” he agreed. “Where would you like to go?”

She fished a list from her bag and squinted at it. “I need new film for the camera and Anna asked me to pick her up paper and ribbon for the typewriter.”

“The Blakes should have those in their store. Come on, just down the road.” He picked up his pace but Hannah caught him by the elbow and pulled him back a little.

“What’s the rush?” she asked as she deliberately walked slower and tugged him down to her pace.

Castiel frowned. “I thought you were wanting your things immediately.”

Her dark head turned a little so she could stare at him. “There’s no real hurry, Castiel.”

“Oh.” He slackened his stride a little and bent his head a little as she began to tell him an amusing story of Anna writing a dirty limerick that his mother found. Though she’d wanted to punish her only daughter, Olivia had gone around singing the limerick in various cartoonish voices until every woman in the house was dying of laughter. Castiel smiled and shook his head, glad his family had such good humour once again. Hannah’s gentle but persistent presence might be good for them.

They rounded the corner and promptly collided with another pedestrian. Castiel reached out to steady himself while Hannah jumped back quickly, and he found his hands grasping a slim waist. When he caught sight of wide dark eyes and bright white fabric, he flinched and withdrew his grip immediately.

“I’m sorry,” he began and then stuttered to a halt as Meg stared up at him. She wore a velvet rose print coat against the chill, unbuttoned over a crisp white dress, and her face was pinched with exhaustion. But her expression was also startled, her mouth half-open for a moment, and he had to shake himself to remember not to just stare back at her.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

Hannah looked between them, sighed when it became clear that neither could be distracted easily, and stuck out her hand between Castiel and Meg. “I saw you the other night at Limbo. Hannah Johnson.”

Meg turned her head abruptly from Castiel and shook Hannah’s hand with a hard grip. “Meg Masters.”

“Pleasure.” Hannah looked at Castiel. “So how do you two know each other?”

Meg shifted from heel to heel as if restless. “I used to attend his church when he was trying to be reverend.”

Castiel heard the insult in the words but it was softly done and not meant to sting. He looked away from Meg to Hannah. “Meg’s family has been in Harrow for generations. You could say they helped build its…reputation. ”

Meg’s brow lifted a little and she smiled, catching the slight. Castiel expected her to be insulted but her smile was nothing but appreciative. She shifted her purse on her shoulder and tapped her toe on the sidewalk as she considered the pair before her. Slowly, she looked at the other woman and gave her a smirk.

“And you are his…steady?” Meg asked Hannah. The older woman went red.

“No. Oh, no. We work together. Castiel was nice enough to put me up at his parents’ for my vacation time. He’s been very kind.”

“Oh, he is that. You’re surviving Olivia’s cooking?” Meg ignored Castiel’s sharp look and touched her stomach with a meaningful tap. “I might suggest not trying her tuna casserole. You’ll never be able to eat right for days after it.”

Hannah chuckled. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Meg glanced at Castiel and then looked away once more when he caught her eye. Something about her seemed to grow uncomfortable and she made a show of adjusting her bag on her shoulder again. “Well, I’ve got some things to do. Have a good walk. See you around.”

That said, she brushed by them and headed across the street. Castiel turned to watch her go, frowning as she bounced up the walkway and headed into the nearest book and music shop. Hannah leaned across him and watched as well.

“What a strange woman. She’s very direct, isn’t she?”

“That’s Meg for you,” he muttered and then looked back around at Hannah. “I just realized I need to go to the post office. You’ll find the shop down the street. I’ll meet you back here in half an hour?”

“Oh, right.” Hannah frowned. “Half an hour?”

He nodded and turned around to head down the walk, leaving Hannah to watch after him. He turned a corner, counted to ten, glanced around it to be sure she was walking toward the Blakes’ studio, before he headed across the street.

#

Meg shuffled along the bookshelves, eyes peeled for her prey. It was supposed to be here, in the new fiction books, but volume after volume of classic literature and the latest journals were all that peeked back at her. Brushing her side-swept hair away from her eyes, Meg looked down at the paper she held and chewed on her lower lip. She’d seen this book referenced in a review paper and her curiosity was getting the better of her. She didn’t really have time for fiction, hadn’t bothered in years, but her little mission would keep her from running home to bed for once the moment she was done work.

“J…K…where are you?” she muttered as a woman passed her and made a show of plucking a Dickens’ book from the clearance bin. She eyed Meg up and down but she was ignored as Meg tilted her head back and looked at the display shelf at the top. “Of course. Kesey. At the top.”

It was a nondescript looking book, thin compared to the other books, and was being ignored in favour of the more stoic, classic literature that surrounded it. Meg stretched on her tiptoes, teetering dangerously on her court heels when she lifted a leg to try to get more reach, and her fingertips just grazed the softcover before she nearly collapsed against the bookcase. She pressed against the frame, using one hand to balance on a rickety shelf, and gave a little jump to try to get the book, determined not to ask for help.

“Here,” a rough voice muttered behind her and she was pressed into from behind by a warm body. Meg froze and gazed at the books before her, smelling an undercurrent of Aqua Velva aftershave as the man behind her reached over her head without any real effort. Meg stared at the tan sleeve the way she might have inspected a map, and swallowed noisily as he plucked her book from the shelf for her and handed it down to her. Clutching the book to her chest, Meg turned and leaned back against the bookcase.

Castiel, familiar despite the years, stared down at her without any indication that he even realized how close he was to her. Meg remembered the stoic-faced and unsophisticated man of just seven years ago and it was hard to see that man beneath this quiet and weary exterior. He removed his hand from the shelf beside her and turned as if to let her by but Meg stayed where she was.

“Did you follow me here?” she demanded and he blinked a few times as if processing her question.

“Why would I?” he asked. “I need to get some packages for Bobby Singer.”

Meg shot him a suspicious look as she hugged her copy, sensing he was lying. “Didn’t your girlfriend wonder where you were getting to?”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Castiel said with a sigh. He looked at the oddly designed book cover facing him. “A novel? May I see it?” He held his hand out again and Meg reluctantly held it out to him. Castiel turned it over and thumbed through a few pages. “‘ _One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest_?’”

“You can still read. Colour me impressed,” Meg grumbled as she watched him scan the first page. His blue eyes flicked up at her.

“I wasn’t expecting this kind of book for you.”

“Gee, thanks.” She snatched the book from him and headed down the narrow aisle.

“I…I didn’t mean it like that,” he protested as he followed her to the next aisle. Meg felt him looking at her very closely as she walked and wondered if he noticed what she wore. The sensible shoes, the white starchy skirt under the long rose print coat, all of it was not her usual style. Then again, she decided, Castiel had never been the forefront of ladies’ fashion. He wouldn’t realize it if she hit him upside the head with a dress code guide.

“What are you following me for?” she asked over her shoulder as she paused to check out a copy of ‘ _Life_ ’ on the magazine rack. He gave up on pretence and stood beside her, an imposingly awkward figure in such a cramped shop.

“I had hoped we could talk. I’d been drinking the other night but that was no excuse for what I said. I wanted to apologize,” he offered and she turned toward him, ignoring the look the clerk was giving them both from where he was reading his comics.

“Did you mean it though?”

“Mean it?” he parroted.

Meg plucked a copy from the rack. “If you meant what you felt then but you’re just apologizing for the hell of it, Castiel, then you don’t really feel sorry. Which means it’s worthless.”

When she looked at him again, he actually seemed to be considering it. “I do mean it, Meg. You didn’t deserve that, no matter our past history,” he said finally.

Meg stared at him hard for a long moment before nodding, satisfied that he was once again being honest. “Good.” She turned around, plunked down money on the desk, and then headed for the back to check out the music kept in bins by the dividing wall. Castiel followed her like a big shadow and she sighed as she came to stand before the old posters on the wall for a concert with Elvis and Cash.

“Look, Castiel…” Meg began but he cleared his throat.

“I saw your sister at my mother’s house. She wasn’t specific at how you were. How have you been?” he interrupted abruptly before she could question what he was doing.

“Ruby and I don’t talk but I’m fine. Peachy keen even.” She raised a brow at him when he looked as if he wanted to ask something more but was keeping polite. “Okay, out with it. What?”

“I had hope you’re doing well. I mean, you could have a steady life now or something like that, for all I know,” he said and she flinched, something she couldn’t avoid despite how innocent the question was.

“What, are you writing a book? I’m too busy working for something so normal like a family,” she snapped. “Remember? Working girl?”

“I suppose. As I recall you did like to keep busy and….”

Meg sucked in a breath and glared at him. “What the hell does that mean?”

“Well, I thought that you said you were working?” he asked as he leaned against the wall opposite her. A teenager glanced at them but quickly went back to rummaging through the records at a vicious look from Meg.

“Of course. I can only do one thing, right?” she snarled at Castiel and he put his hands in the air meekly. “I am working but not my old job, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“I wasn’t thinking that. It was just an observation,” he said gently. “What are you doing now?”

Meg wanted to be angry with him but he looked utterly blameless staring at her like that and she knew he probably had been unintentionally insulting. It happened often with him as she remembered it.

“Like you care,” she snapped instead as she turned to try to go by him. He caught her elbow, held her still, and stared into her upturned face.

“I do,” he muttered before clearing his throat. “I don’t remember you always being this…thorny.”

“Seven years changes a lot, Castiel,” Meg said but didn’t remove her arm from his grip. He frowned and seemed to truly look at her in a more analyzing fashion.

“The hair is different and your outfit seems more…” His head cocked on the side. “Uniformed than I remember.”

His relentless stare wore her down. “Fine. Might as well let the cat out of the bag. I have a job at the teaching hospital they built a few years ago. Only a been there since July.”

Meg wished she had a camera for the gaping surprise on his face. He closed his mouth an audible pop and asked, “Oh? Doing what?”

“Student nurse on one of the locked wards.” She shrugged. “It’s a job.”

“That explains the outfit,” he said, gesturing at the starchy swing of her skirt. “You must have worked very hard to get there and I’m glad to see it. Congratulations.”

That she hadn’t expected.

“Oh…thanks. Gives me something to focus on at least. Makes the day go by.” Meg puzzled over that pleased expression he wore as she pushed a tendril away from her face. Castiel watched her, not moving even when the teenager left them alone in the backroom and Meg wondered what else there could be as she plucked bobby pin from her pocket and started to fix her hair again.

“And the hair?” he asked finally.

“I wanted to chop it and it was the best way of hiding myself from people like Crowley and people that knew me back then. Needed a change, I guess,” she said as she fumbled to pin her hair bak.

When he reached out and his finger suddenly tucked her hair behind her ear for her, Meg struggled not to flinch though the touch was gentle. Reluctantly, she looked up at him and was aware of how he looked back at her when he was so close. Castiel stared into her eyes, finger trailing along her earlobe in a quick caress, before his hand dropped away completely. The contact still seemed to leave a ghostly echo and she flashed him a cheeky grin to cover how uncomfortable the action had made her.

“Remember that one night when I patched you up?” she blurted out and nearly slapped herself at the memory of that night. It wasn’t exactly one that helped keep distance between them, considering what had happened. She kept grinning anyway. “Guess we didn’t know I’d make a nurse after all, huh? Instead of staying on my back.”

The crudeness made his eyes narrow a little but he didn’t move. He was staring at her in such a way that made her wonder what his plan was. When he reached out again, she ducked beneath his arm and plucked up a record as if wanting to look it over. Castiel’s hand fell to his side and out of the corner of her eye she saw how he clenched it tight to a fist. She didn’t see his bleak expression and merely tried to ignore her own confusion at his nearness. She should have long since forgotten him, she was sure she had, and this odd sensation creeping in was nothing more than nostalgia. Had to be nostalgia.

“Despite our history, Meg, I’d hoped you be happy. I hope you are happy,” he said as he watched her. “That you found something more for yourself. A job, a home… family.”

Meg shuttered up inside and felt cold. “People like me don’t get all that, Clarence. I’m just lucky to have a job. Can’t expect more than that.” She heard his sharp intake of breath and turned toward him again, the book raised between them like a barrier. “Sweet of you to say it though.”

“Meg…” Castiel began but the jingle of the front door made them look down the aisle to see Hannah coming in. Meg turned away and looked down into a record bin again. Castiel watched her until it was obvious she wasn’t going to turn around. Reluctantly, he faced Hannah’s approach.

“Cass, I was looking for you,” Hannah said as she squeezed through to come to his side, holding two large bags. “I need help carrying this paper for your sister.”

“Yes, of course,” he agreed. “I just need to say goodbye.”

Hannah frowned. “To who?”

Castiel turned and started when he realized Meg had disappeared through the backdoor, which was clicking shut. Swallowing down the urge to call after her, he replaced his frown with a smile and turned back to Hannah.

“Anna will be thrilled. Let’s go home before it gets dark.”

She smiled at him but looked puzzled at the same time. Unsettled and determined to hide it, Castiel followed her out the store and forced himself not to look around to see if Meg was anywhere on the street.

 

 


	17. Mixed-Up Confusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anna and Ruby conspire to let Castiel know just what happened in Harrow after he left and how it had affected Meg.

They drove to the Winchesters’ instead of immediately heading back to his parents’ house. Needing to pick up Hannah’s assignment file that she had left for Dean to review, it had seemed ideal but Castiel’s silence in the truck had made Hannah uncomfortable enough to turn on the radio and hum along. When they finally pulled in the drive alongside Dean’s new black Impala, she turned toward him and tried to smile.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Castiel said as he put the truck in park and put his hand on the door handle. Hannah reached out and put her own hand on his knee to keep him still.

“Castiel, what’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing!” he snapped and he jerked away from her. Having always seen him be so calm and reserved, Hannah pulled back and stared wide-eyed at him as he left her in the truck. Eventually, she joined him on the drive and followed him inside the house, carefully being sure to keep distance between them. Sam was cleaning his weapons and Dean was perched in front of a tiny television rented from in town, frowning. The scene was oddly calm for the two Winchesters. Dean tapped the box to clear up the picture and glanced up from it to look at Castiel.

“I don’t know if I like _Gunsmoke_ ,” he said as a way of greeting them. “I mean, the show is just never ending. Should have ended a while ago. Writing is going to go to hell sooner or later.”

Castiel, who couldn’t afford a television on his meagre savings, took a seat beside him and peered at the tiny screen. “Are you still favouring Lucille Ball instead?”

“Yeah, Dean,” Sam said from the table. “Are you?”

“I have a thing for redheads, shut up,” Dean snapped but he was staring at the screen as if enthralled. At Castiel’s impatient sigh, he made a face. “What’s up?”

Hannah set her purse on the counter. “The files?”

“Third drawer down in the upper study.” The old house, inherited from their long estranged grandfather after John Winchester’s untimely death, had enough levels and hidden rooms to be confusing but neither brother offered to help Hannah. She sighed and headed up the creaky stairs and Castiel stayed where he was, watching the screen with fascination. The only time he ever watched television was around the Winchesters and he had his favourites though he never admitted it to either brother because the teasing would be never ending. Cartoons were a novelty that a grown man shouldn’t enjoy.

“You look like you’re bent,” Dean remarked as he handed Castiel a beer. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Not nothing,” Dean said. “You look run over. Now what’s wrong?”

“Maybe he heard you were hanging out with that Lafitte guy instead of him,” Sam grumbled and both of them looked at him. “Benny’s a better shot.”

“Funny,” Castiel muttered. “I was in town with Hannah. It is a lot of memories.”

“A lot of memories or a lot of Meg?” Dean gleaned and the annoyed look Castiel gave him made him grin. “I’m pretty sharp.”

Sam’s rude snort made Dean flip him the bird. Trying to delay answering, Castiel ran his hand through his hair and ruffled it before scratching at his scruffy jaw. “ I saw her on the street. It was like the world just rewound back seven years.”

“She looks pretty different,” Dean began but Castiel shook his head.

“That’s not what I mean.” He slapped his hands on his thighs and stood up, pacing the floor. “I left Harrow to put that business behind me.”

“Worked for seven years too,” Sam agreed as he set a knife down.

“She still working the street?” Dean asked and Castiel glanced at the stairs, wondering if Hannah was lurking and eavesdropping.

“No. She’s a student nurse at the hospital that was built a few years ago.”

Dean choked on the beer he’d been sipping. “You’re kidding me.”

“Why would I?” Castiel was confused and he heard his friend’s exasperated sigh.

“You’re telling me that Meg Masters, a girl who barely finished any sort of school and was one of the town’s most notorious pariahs, is acting like a nurse and playing nice?” Dean stared at his beer and made a face. “I think I’m off booze forever.”

“Very funny. But yes, she is. She has no reason to lie to me,” Castiel pointed out and Dean shrugged.

“Being what she was, Cass, I’m sure she could lie to you real easy.”

Sam looked between them, giving Dean a warning shake of his head before focussing on Castiel. “You think she’s legit?”

“She certainly looked the part. I don’t know the details though. I’m not sure how she would have found the money however to complete school.”

“Girl like that could earn it easy enough,” Dean joked and the glare Castiel shot his way made him stammer. “I mean, the farms, right?”

“I can only hope she is happy doing it. I just wanted her to be happy, in the end,” Castiel insisted.

“She seem happy?” Sam asked.

Castiel frowned. “Not exceptionally. We didn’t get into details. But what else could I ask?”

“For the truth. Might not get it from her though.” Sam turned back to his weapon cleaning. He glanced to the side and saw Hannah lingering in the shadows of the stairwell, listening. He smiled, shrugged, and looked down.

“Maybe there’s some gossip around town you could ask for.” Dean yawned and gave Castiel a wry look. “So is this just one of your usual interests or should we be ready to get out of town fast again?”

Castiel glared at him again and Dean smugly turned back to his television. Taking that as her cue, Hannah came in and brandished the folder at Castiel.

“Ready when you are,” she said with a smile. Castiel said his goodbyes and followed her to the truck, jingling his keys as he went. The drive home was silent, his eyes on the road and one hand at his mouth as he thought over Dean and Sam’s reactions to Meg’s apparent change in profession. He didn’t notice the way Hannah watched him.

When they pulled into the Shurley drive, Hannah tentatively reached out again and put her hand on his shoulder. “Cass?” At his distracted glance she blushed a little and let her hand fall to his knee. “This Meg…were you and she together?”

“No,” he said. “Not exactly.” At her silence he looked away. “I’d say we were friends but that wouldn’t be very true either.”

Hannah shook her head. “Castiel, I was married you know. You couldn’t shock me. Who was she to you?”

When he refused to answer and stonily stared out the windshield, she frowned and removed her hand from his knee.

“I see.”

“I don’t think you do,” Castiel said and he finally looked at her again. “Please, Hannah, just leave it alone.”

She nodded. “Of course. Have a good night.”

When she left the truck and climbed the front steps, Castiel ran his hand over the steering wheel and closed his eyes. The night was still young. With a snap of his wrist, he turned the truck to the side and headed down the dirt road out of town, intent on leaving his melancholy behind him for a few hours.

#

Try as he might to bury himself in working with both Bobby and Anna, Castiel found himself unable to focus for several days after seeing Meg at the book store. Her odd flinches, the way she had dodged his curiosity, everything had screamed that the girl he had known had become more reserved around him. It was nothing like what he expected. Meg at Limbo at been vivacious and seductive. The Meg he had seen on the street acted as if she expected her world to go to hell at the drop of a hat. It was two different women and he wasn’t sure which was the lie.

Castiel couldn’t even turn to his friends lately for help. Benny’s presence at the Winchesters’ had made things awkward. They enjoyed his company, Dean more than Sam, but his ribald teasing made Castiel uncomfortably aware that he wasn’t as easygoing as Dean liked sometimes. He stayed in his own little world most nights, drinking with Sam and Bobby as they played poker, while Benny and Dean spent time shooting cans and reminiscing about the war. These were the times when Castiel realized that sometimes he was an outsider in the lives of his friends and, giving up on his vow of true sobriety, he drank a little more because of it.

Not that he figured anyone would notice.

Nursing his second hangover in the week, Castiel watched his mother pruning one of her old shrubs from his place on the porch. Hannah was helping her tie up the branches so that she could scalp the interior of dead leaves and her greeting had been cool, the way it had been since their time spent in town. He’d been invited to dinner, as usual, and he’d only come because Olivia had made it clear if he didn’t she’d set Hannah after him. Much as he wanted to wallow in his moodiness, he knew if he dragged others down with him, it wouldn’t do him much good.

“She’s a nice lady,” Anna said behind him from the porch swing and Castiel turned to see her watching Hannah. “But sad. She misses her husband.” Her eyes drifted to Castiel. “Makes her a bit… dependent.”

“Don’t start,” Castiel muttered as he scrubbed at his face and stood up. “How are you feeling?”

Her pale face was more pinched than ever before, drawn and tight with exhaustion. “I’ll be fine. It’ll pass.” She looked behind herself and struggled to rise. Castiel saw the way she flushed and tried to maintain her dignity but he wasn’t about to let her fall. He scooped her up, holding her close, and took her back into the house. Anna was quiet as he climbed the stairs with her in his arms, her arm draped loosely around his shoulders, and her thin body trembled when he nearly stumbled. By the time he reached her room, he was breathing hard and his headache was pounding horribly between his ears.

Ruby snapped her book shut and started to rise from the armchair. “Anna?”

“She’s just tired,” Castiel said as he set his sister down in her bed against the big fluffy pillows. Ruby watched him from the chair as he tucked the redhead into her duvet but she still kept quiet. Castiel went to move but Anna’s long fingers wrapped around his wrist and held him still.

“We need to talk,” she said and he obediently took a seat on the mattress beside her.

“About?”

“Meg Masters.” Anna pushed herself up a little and held up a hand. “You’ve been moping, Castiel. Don’t tell me it isn’t about her. I heard something of it from Hannah.”

He grumbled under his breath but didn’t interrupt. His sister looked at Ruby. “He deserves to know the truth. You told me it yourself.”

Ruby winced. “I did it because you insisted.”

“And I’m asking now,” Anna said with steel in her voice. Castiel looked between the two women.

“What is going on?” he asked. “What does it have to do with Meg? With me?”

Anna plucked at a loose thread in her duvet and then folded her hands over her stomach. “Cass, Meg came here a month after you left town with the Winchesters. She came to see Father.”

“She what? Why?” He frowned, thinking it over. “Did she want money or something?”

“No. She wanted your address.” Anna winced. “He wasn’t nice to her. Didn’t have much reason to be since her mother was still trying to blackmail our family with those pictures. He thought she set you up.”

“She might have,” Castiel said darkly. Ruby didn’t deny it but she moved from her place on the chair and took a seat in the window instead so that she faced the Shurley siblings.

“When Meg came home, she and Mom settled their differences for a while and she acted like she wanted in on our plans again. She set up stuff for me and Lil, collected money, helped around the apartment, but I don’t know if she actually…worked, you know?” She winced. “She avoided us and was pretty pissy most days. I think only the fact that Mr. Cain brought her in was the reason why Mom didn’t hand Meg over to Crowley for a beating. He scared Mom, you know.”

“I’m not surprised by any of this,” Castiel said. “Meg struck me as independent.”

“Independence gets you killed in that line of work,” Ruby snapped. “Crowley didn’t care for her, never did, but Mom could charm a snake into doing her work for her, let alone a hired goon. She wasn’t afraid to get her hands dirty though.”

Castiel rolled his eyes. “Get to the point.”

Anna squeezed his hand. “Don’t be rude to Ruby. I like her.”

He opened his mouth to answer but the look his sister shot him made Castiel meekly look at Ruby for answers. The elder Masters girl looked put-out but at Anna’s encouraging murmur, she pushed her dark hair back from her face and settled back on the windowsill.

“I was sleeping off my night work when I heard Mom shouting at Meg. Meg had been in the bathroom for a few hours and I came out to see what was wrong. I hadn’t really seen my little sister much in the days before that but she was probably changing in the bathroom. Which was weird, my sister was never a prude about being naked before. Me and Mom saw her and she was…well…” Ruby twisted her fingers in her lap. “Different.”

“Different?”

“I’m no expert but Mom was. She knew what she was seeing. Started screaming that Meg was ruining everything and she dragged her out by the hair, calling her a slut.”

Castiel felt Anna’s fingers tighten on his wrist but this time the gesture was comforting. “Ruby, what are you talking about?”

“Meg was…she was knocked up. I could tell. My sister used to be rail thin, you know.”

Castiel felt as if his expectations fell to pieces just hearing those words and he stared at Ruby stupidly. Then he recovered enough to truly think about it. His memory, so picture perfect most days, replayed to him the last day he had spent with Meg before they had split. A day when he had been relishing the changes in her body. The glow, the weight gain that had made her breasts swell and her figure voluptuous… all changes he had thought easier living had brought to her.

“Thought it might have been a client but Mom knew better. She knew where Meg had been. I mean, she started throwing her around and Meg didn’t even fight her at first. I’ve never seen Mom like that before. I think Meg was in shock or something was wrong, maybe, I don’t know. It was nasty.” Ruby made a face and began twisting her fingers in her skirt. “I tried to catch her, to make Mom stop for a bit, but Meg felt down the landing and just laid there for a long time. When Mom went for her again, Meg punched her and tried to escape but Crowley was there. Guess he heard the shouting.”

“What happened?” Castiel whispered.

“He took her to the doctor. Said Lil needed to use her brain, that they could use this.” Ruby frowned at Castiel. “I never saw her again after it but they were both furious. Said she ran on them. It was like she vanished. No one told me anything about it and I got out just a little after that. I wish I’d known she was still alive. We weren’t close but she was still my sister.”

Anna nodded and looked at her silent brother. “Cass? You…are you okay? When Ruby told me all this, I knew you deserved to know. Meg’s only come back to Harrow in the past few months and Ruby’s tried to get hold of her but she refuses to see her.”

“I’m fine,” Castiel said and he pulled his hand from Anna’s grip. He cleared his throat several times and assumed a blank expression “I…I need to just absorb it all. Excuse me.”

Anna and Ruby shot each other concerned looks as he stood up. “Cass,” Anna began but he merely gestured for her to stay in bed.

“I’ll tell Mother you need dinner in bed. Thank you.” He reluctantly looked at Ruby. “Both of you.”

Ruby gave him a shaky smile before taking his place on the bed to hold Anna’s hand. Castiel closed the door on their concern and slipped into his old bedroom, where remnants of his childhood still remained. Mathematic books, science projects, all of it still staggered around his old desk and the angel statues that decorated his windowsill stared vacantly up at him. Castiel closed his door and took a seat on his bed, barely feeling the way the worn mattress sunk violently beneath his weight. His thoughts spun in circles, centring around the possibilities.

He might have a child. One he’d abandoned due to hurt feelings and a misguided sense of duty. It didn’t cross his mind that because he didn’t know that he wasn’t responsible for Meg or what had happened. It simply felt right to feel guilt at his own actions. Meg’s wariness might be explained now if she had been trying to protect herself.

Castiel was nearly breathless as the thought truly settled in his mind. He could be a father. A father. A sense of panic made the world tunnel and his heartbeat race, and he knew what was coming. Standing up abruptly, he nearly ran down the stairs, narrowly dodged Hannah and Olivia as he snatched his keys and coat from the table, and headed out into the crisp evening air. He needed to get out before the coming attack made him do something he would regret.

 


	18. Big Girls Don’t Cry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the end of a long shift, Meg just wants her bed. But Castiel has other plans.

Meg’s shift ended at six in the evening and her feet ached, adding to her bad mood. The sensible uniform shoes pinched worse than her old high heels and the starch in her skirt itched and she was ready to just toss everything to hell after a day like today. There was nothing worse than having to bite your tongue when you just wanted to tear into the stupidity of others and her common sense had kept her from doing something she might live to regret. Meg was determined to try to succeed, hating to admit failure, and being a student nurse hadn’t exactly been her best idea but it was the only one that meant she could live without starving. Desperation had made her do something she had never thought to do. There were moments she enjoyed it, the challenge and the respect that came with it feeding her determination, but then there were days like today when she wished she’d stayed away.

Harrow, for all its sordid memories and history, ironically had been one of the only training hospitals to ignore her both spotty academic and criminal records in the sweeping attempt to hire more nurses. Its bid for decency had made finding employment easy. Keeping it was another story.

Meg frowned and stared up at the overcast sky. It was looking like rain and she clutched her coat closed over her white dress as she stood under the ambulance overhang. It was a few blocks to walk to her tiny bedsitter and her stomach rumbled impatiently for her to hurry up. She had to get home but still Meg took the moment to have to herself and absorb the fresh smells of coming rain, smoke, and harvested crops coming from the distance. Anything better than the sterility of the hospital and the choking dust of the downtown.

When she opened her eyes again, a man in a tan overcoat stared back at her from where he leaned on his truck across the parking lot. Meg frowned and looked left and right. The doctors and nurses were coming in for their long shifts and no one seemed to notice how Castiel stood out even among them. Maybe, she considered, she just thought he stood out. At her look, he waved then looked down at his shoelaces and scuffed his toe on the cement, at once a shy boy instead of the man she remembered. Knowing there was no escaping him, Meg holstered her bag on her shoulder and strode across the lot like a wild cat about to pounce. She saw how his head jerked and he backed up a step at the ferocity of her scowl and it made her inwardly glad that he was unsteady around her.

Castiel, on the other hand, was struck that how even changed as she was Meg was still so formidable.

“Hello,” he said and she set her bag on the hood of his truck.

“What are you doing here?” she snapped. “Thought you had places to be. Busy with the Winchesters and all. You know, the Lucy and Ricky to your Ethel?”

Castiel stared at her blankly. “I don’t understand.”

Meg sighed, reaching up to her pinned hair. “What do you want, Castiel?” she asked as she pulled the bobby pins free and shook her blonde waves out, scratching her fingers along her scalp with a satisfied groan. He waited until she looked up at him again and cleared his throat.

“I was hoping we could talk.”

“Talk?” Meg arched a brow. “How did you even know I was here? I work all weird hours.”

“Well, I…I waited.”

Her eyes widened. “Wait, how long did you wait here? An hour?” Castiel coughed and looked away sheepishly. “A few hours?”

“A couple. I had time today. It is Saturday, you know,” he said and he looked at her again, embarrassment gone. “I was hoping we could talk.”

“I have to get home,” Meg said. “I have someone waiting for me.”

He blinked. “Anyone I know?” She shrugged and he looked over the truck hood at her. “Would you like to get a coffee?”

Meg was aware of her stomach growling at her, churning uncomfortably a reminder that she hadn’t eaten all day and should say no. There was a packet of cereal at home with her name on it. But he was so earnest and hopeful that she softened a little, a thing that only Castiel had ever been able to accomplish with her. Rubbing her hand over her rumbling stomach, she jerked her head in the direction of the diner across the street.

“Diner is open. Food’s okay and the coffee isn’t terrible.”

“I was hoping I could take you for something at the Harvelles,” he said and Meg shook her head. She knew the Harvelles a little, more by reputation than anything, and their diner was on the other side of town now. In a good spot and not at all her sort.

“It’s this or nothing. I need to get home.”

Castiel relented and took her bag for her without asking, a reserved gesture that made Meg frown while she followed him across the quiet street. Castiel’s politeness seemed stiff and cold, distant even, and though it was bewildering Meg was glad for the distance. Had he ploughed into her with questions and stories and comments she might have just walked away, she was so tired. Her entire body was sore from turning an overweight patient repeatedly today to avoid bedsores and she just wanted a hot bath and bed. But he was also determined, she could tell, to talk to her. Castiel barely even looked at her when he held the glass door open and waited for her to go in ahead.

The diner was warm and the air smelt of fried food and fresh coffee, welcome smells that made Meg’s stomach growl again. Castiel glanced down at her stomach before he gave her a quizzical look that she tried to ignore. She shoved her hunger down and with a slow saunter headed for a booth in the back corner. A few nurses she recognized were crowded into tables near the door, and at the sight of Castiel at her back they began whispering loudly to one another. Apparently this would make the hospital grapevine by tomorrow, especially since very few nurses knew anything about Meg in the first place. Resigned to being the source of gossip and loathing work now more than ever, Meg grit her teeth and plunked down onto the red plastic cushion.

Castiel wasn’t as oblivious as she thought as he put her bag on the floor beneath the table and took a seat as well. “Friends of yours?” he asked, scooting over so that he faced her.

“More like thorns in my side,” Meg growled. He nodded and fished a menu out from the wire basket near the window.

“Hungry? We could order something.”

“Just coffee,” she insisted even as she folded her arms across her stomach to try to silence it. Giving her a glance that told her he knew she was starving, Castiel shrugged and looked up as the waitress approached. The moment she saw Castiel, Meg noticed how she tugged her blouse down to expose her ample cleavage and slowed her walk to a hip rolling strut. With a pop of her cherry lips, the waitress snapped her gum and tapped her pencil on her order pad as she eyeballed Castiel.

“What can I get you, handsome?” she asked in a dulcet purr and Meg rolled her eyes, looking out the window. Her stomach gave a hard clench and growl and she dug her fingers into her forearms to stifle the pain.

“Burger deluxe to go and a coffee. Meg?” he asked and she glared at him. A faint smirk on his lips made her aware that he’d probably heard her overactive stomach again. He wanted to see if she would follow through.

“Just coffee,” she grumbled stubbornly. The waitress gave her a once-over, shrugged, and headed back for the kitchen.

Meg busied herself with unlacing her heels a little to give her feet some relief and ignored the long look Castiel gave her before he looked out the window. A child was walking along the sidewalk, being swung between his two parents, and he smiled a little wistfully when the boy shrieked loud as he struck a pile of leaves. The sight spurred a strange yearning that Castiel had ignored for years: a desire for something more than his mindless following of other ambitions. Castiel watched the young father swing the boy up into his arms and was aware of that growing hunger gnawing at him.

That could have been him. It could still be him. He wanted to belong to something and it was possible he had and never knew it.

Castiel looked back at Meg and saw her rubbing at a bruise on her arm. “Were you hurt?” he asked and she shrugged, poking at the purple mark.

“Patient got rough. Can’t help it, I guess. He didn’t know what he was doing.” She removed her hand as the waitress put their drinks on the table and wrapped her fingers around the hot mug.

“Anything else for now?” she asked, leaning down across from Castiel to give him a deliberate eyeful. He gave her an absentminded smile simply to be polite.

“No thank you.” He saw her pout but his focus was on Meg so totally that he barely registered her disappointment. Meg took a long sip of coffee, closing her eyes in relief, and then sighed as she sank back into the seat a bit more. After a long hesitation, she opened her eyes and fixed a solemn stare on him.

“How was the north side of the States?” she asked.

“Cold.”

Her eyebrows rose a little. “I heard you were all over, making trouble for dealers, spies, and stuff. Thought you wouldn’t get bored of that.”

“After seven years, you start to realize how exhausting it is chasing theories and spies. It was little more than chasing ghosts and boogeymen,” Castiel said with a wry smile. Meg nodded and took another sip. Awkwardly grasping for small talk, Castiel took a gulp of coffee and tried to seem casually indifferent to their growing tension. “Looks like rain.”

“You didn’t wait for me outside a hospital for hours just to make small talk about the weather, Cass,” Meg replied and she set her cup down with a clatter that rattled both of their already frayed nerves. “So what did you want to talk about?”

He decided it was best to be blunt. Meg would probably figure out if he danced around what he wanted to ask her and she wouldn’t stick around if he played dumb.

“I spoke to Anna. I know you came to the house after I left town,” he said and Meg shrugged. “You wanted my address, didn’t you?”

“Yeah. Maybe I thought I’d write you, get some cash, that sort of thing,” she snipped but Castiel shook his head. “So what?”

“Meg, I know. Ruby told me you went home and I know what happened.”

“You know what? That Mom beat the hell out of me for hiding out on her all those weeks? It was a bad plan of ours and I still remember how that fist of hers felt. Was a lot of fun,” she answered and his blue eyes searched her face intently for any sign of a slip up. But her mask was firmly in place, hiding her in glib cynicism that he remembered too well. At his silence, she rolled her eyes and began to drum her fingernails on the table. “Don’t keep me in suspense, Clarence. What do you know?”

“You were pregnant,” he blurted out, his carefully crafted words gone in his awkward desperation to hear it from her lips. Meg’s eyebrows rose higher and her hand tightened into a fist on the table. Her lips parted, about to form words, but then after a long moment of staring at him she scoffed and looked out the window instead, her jaw clenched. Knowing he was risking her running, Castiel put his hand across the table and laid it over hers. “Meg?”

Her brown eyes stayed focussed on the street and Castiel squeezed her clenched fist.

“Meg, do we have a child?” he asked, voice softening.

“No, we don’t,” she answered with a snap, trying to draw her hand away as she stood.

Castiel held her firmly. “You don’t need to lie to me.” When she was quiet, he tugged on her hand to try to get her to look at him. “Ruby told me everything she could but she didn’t know what happened to you after Crowley showed up. You should let me have at least the truth, to know if I left you and a child behind. I’m sorry I didn’t help you. You didn’t have to raise a child alone.”

Her lips pursed as she inhaled deeply and he let her hand go. Meg gave him a sidelong look before she sat back down with a thump and leaned away from the table, her hand retreating to her lap. Castiel returned her quiet stare even when the waitress set the food on the table in its cardboard container, the tempting aroma now only sickening to her.

“What is your game here, Castiel?” Meg said with a dangerous edge to her voice though she only looked out the window again. “Some form of revenge? A way to make me feel guilty for something?”

“Of course not.” He was quiet as his cup and hers were refilled and once they were alone again he folded his hands on the table and leaned toward her so he could keep his voice low. “Meg. Look at me.”

She did so reluctantly and he watched her too-calm reaction to his pleading look.

“Why do you care?” Meg asked.

“If I learned one thing with the Winchesters, in all our time together…the war, the contracts, everything…is that family is important. So please. I’m asking you for the truth.” Castiel reached for her hand once more but Meg leaned back into her seat and crossed her arms over her chest. Her sigh this time was less exasperated and almost resigned, her face holding an almost vacant expression as she began to speak,

“When she saw me, Lil went over the top. I had only just figured it out and your dad had been pretty blunt about what he thought about me coming to him, so I thought I could just get my stash of money and slip out. But she found me first. Ruby hid in the bathroom while I was thrown around. It wasn’t as bad as usual, I was stronger than Lil even then and I was used to it.” Meg dug her nails into her upper arms. “But when I fell this time, I felt sick immediately. Everything hurt.”

_Crowley shoved the door open, blocked by Meg’s crouched form, and peered down at her. “So you’re back then,” he offered. He took in the blood dripping from a cut on her forehead. “Can’t stay away from it, eh?”_

_Meg rose to answer him and immediately doubled over as a stabbing pain pierced her middle like an incredible stitch. Gasping for breath, she retreated from him toward the street but Christian was there to block her, a savage grin on his lips. Meg turned away and forced her way past Crowley. If only she could get upstairs, away from them all, she could lay down and the pain would go._

_Crowley stared at her as she passed. “I was going to scoop you up if I ever found you but it seems Lil is doing that for me…” he began before breaking off and reaching out to take her by the arm. Meg groaned and he pulled hard enough that she stood still. His hand went to her bare leg and Meg snarled, trying to clench her legs shut but his grip wasn’t to be denied._

_His hand was wet with blood when he pulled it back and the shock on his face became hot rage as he looked up at Lil. “What the hell are you thinking?” he shouted at her._

Castiel swallowed noisily and reached with a shaking hand for his drink. Meg watched him and waited until he was once again still before she finally put her hands on the table. She kept her voice low, so low he had to strain to hear her.

_She woke in the Bentley for brief moments before fainting again. When she was put on a metal table, the icy surface snapped her out of her haze to see Dr. Star leaning over her. His long face and jutting jaw were horrifyingly familiar. He licked chapped lips and looked down her nude legs stained with blood._

“ _I don’t suppose you realize this is hopeless?” he asked as he reached for his stained medical tray. Crowley appeared in her line of vision, Lil looking furious and savage at his side. “The damage is done, you know.”_

“ _Do your best,” Crowley said. “Lil here forgot a child would be useful leverage against Shurley.”_

“ _Girl was a slut on her own time,” Lil muttered. Meg couldn’t stare at her mother any longer as the rusted handle of Star’s favourite scalpel came closer to her eyes. He reached out and stroked her jaw with both the metal handle and his calloused fingers. The eerily gentle gesture was supposed to be comforting but she cringed._

“ _Now, Meg, my dear, this is going to hurt quite a bit once I take a little peek.” He nodded when she turned her head away from him. “I suggest fainting as the best course of action.”_

“He wasn’t wrong. I don’t remember much but I was in and out before I finally had to pass out,” Meg said. “I woke up on a cot in the backroom.”

She took a long drink of lukewarm coffee, aware that he was no longer looking at her but at the wall behind her. Her hand shook a little as she put the cup down and tried to warm her cold fingers on the ceramic. Castiel looked at her finally but she didn’t look up, lost in memories she’d sworn to never think about.

“I panicked. I mean, I was careful for years, you know? That was the first time that happened to me. So I snuck out, took off down the street. Passed out again an alley and then hid for a while near the shelter. Damage was done, pretty sure I was dying of infection.” Her hands clenched around her cup. “I got lucky, I guess. Mr. Cain found me in the gutter just as someone was trying to pick me up. Took me to the next town over because Harrow didn’t have a hospital then.”

“He didn’t take you home,” Castiel said softly.

“Said he wouldn’t. Cain’s got his own problems but he liked me. Paid for the doctor and everything. Star did some…he did some damage.” Meg winced in memory and Castiel reached out to brush his hand against hers. This time she didn’t pull away. “Cain said he didn’t want Lil involved. He gave me a choice. He’d take me home, to that life, or I could look for something new. He’d help me. I was too sick to argue.” She rubbed her cheek with her free hand and shook her head. “He helped me in exchange for cleaning up for him, working on his farm. He taught me, paid me. Got me far enough along that I could go to school. Took seven years but here I am.”

Her dark gaze went to Castiel, a harsh mocking glimmer to her eyes. “Not the happy ending you were expecting to have, huh? Sorry you didn’t get to play pops.”

He didn’t answer, stared instead at their touching fingers. Castiel’s head turned to the side and he finally drew his hand away from hers to swipe his fingers through his hair.

“I’m sorry,” he said. He gave a harsh barking sound, a little like a chuckle. “Sounds too simple to say that but it is all I can do.”

“It’s in the past,” Meg began and he shook his head.

“I don’t think it is. Meg, I’m sorry you went through that alone.”

“What’s a girl like to me expect, Clarence?” Her grin was slanted and self-deprecating. “You don’t get happy endings with a past like mine. Bad girls don’t get the fairytale, you know, and I get what I deserve, right?”

“Meg, that’s not what I think…” he began but she looked at her watch and reached for her bag.

“I need to go.” Her eyes wandered over the table. “Thanks for the coffee.”

“Meg,” he tried again when she slipped from the bench and stood up.

“See you around, Clarence.” Her lips curved into a strange smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Sorry I didn’t give you what you wanted. Probably don’t need to see me again, huh? All bad memories you don’t need or want.”

“What I wanted,” he repeated slowly and she shrugged her shoulder as she hoisted the bag higher. “Meg, what I wanted…”

He stammered to a stop when he saw the flitting emotions in her eyes. She had wanted to run and because he was keeping her here she looked ready to fight. Knowing that he couldn’t keep her without causing a scene, he handed her the takeout container. She took it without meeting his eye and then nearly sprinted from the diner. Castiel watched her cross the street, barely evading a truck coming her way, and he forced himself to stay in his seat.

“You deserve more than bad memories, Meg,” he muttered to the empty space she had left behind.

 


	19. Only the Lonely

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannah gives Castiel a bit of wisdom that he never expected.

Castiel sat at his father’s desk, staring at the piles of paperwork stacked to either side and barely absorbing the amount of work he had done already. He’d received a call from his father that asked him to find his restricted research papers into Cuban militia tactics and send them on using Bobby Singer as a go-between. He hadn’t exactly trusted Olivia to do such a thing, considering how his wife was acting like his behaviour in Washington was a personal offence to her, and Castiel had helped to avoid seeing how combative his parents could be with one another. Besides, it distracted him from thinking about Meg.

He snorted and shook his head, haphazardly piling receipts and maps into an envelope. It was a good idea but far from the truth. He’d spent the past week consumed with a private grief he didn’t share with anyone. He knew what Meg had gone through, knew it was in the past, but it hadn’t stopped him from feeling a deeper guilt than even his family could make him feel. What could have been, if only things had not been the way they were, plagued him.

He wanted so much more now than he had in the past. In the past that had been nothing more than a feeling of duty, to get by day by day doing what was expected and to do as told. Now it was something nagging him and forcing him to face that he had been wanting to escape a pre-ordained path and he had latched on to Meg to try to do it. Meg had used him for protection back then but that hadn’t been everything for both of them. He knew deep down that she had started to care for him and he knew how he had felt back then as well hadn’t truly died either. If anything, his feelings had just been hidden behind his determination not to be hurt.

Still, Meg might never feel as deeply for him as he had wanted. She could hate him even but… if she hated him, why had she talked to him, explained what happened… when she could have just walked away at any time?

Castiel set the papers down and put his hands beneath his chin as he stared at the study door without really seeing it. He had wanted to go to the hospital again, to talk to Meg, but every time he had driven right by without stopping. It was complicated, he told himself. Meg was trying to make a life for herself and if he showed up now, somehow he would wreck it. As the Winchesters often reminded him, sometimes his attempts at being helpful ended badly.

Groaning, he lowered his head. God but he wanted to see her again to at least try to prove to himself that it was indeed over. That he was hanging too much hope on had-beens and could-haves. Castiel raked his fingers through his mussed hair and dropped his eyes to stare at the envelope addressed to his father. He should just plough ahead, get to work, and forget about Meg as a piece of his past he shouldn’t think on.

But he wasn’t sorry and never would be sorry for trying. The time he had left Harrow had given him a type of relief, but he couldn’t stop thinking about Meg now and it had been seven years apart. It was a hope burrowing under his skin. Meeting again had been enough to revive old feelings and confusions and he found it hard to accomplish anything.

“I know… I know…”

Castiel heard the low hum of Hannah’s voice on the phone and he set down the papers to cock his head and listen. The phone his mother had only put in recently, bowing down to his sister’s desire for more modern technology, and Hannah he knew had been at it for several hours now. Her voice was quiet but not hushed, and when he stood and went to the door, he saw her in the hall with her head bowed and posture almost lazy.

“I miss you too,” she said. Castiel tilted his head the other way and leaned against the study door. Hannah’s eyes were closed and her lips pursed, as if she was doing something painful. “It wasn’t anything you did, Joe. It’s just… after what happened, seeing you go to Cuba was too hard.”

Castiel heard the crackle of a voice on the receiver but he didn’t move any closer. Hannah’s hand was shaking.

“No, it isn’t about him. I…no, Joe. It had nothing to do with Castiel.” She sounded tired. “He’s my friend, my boss. But he wanted to help me when I needed to get away.”

Castiel crossed his arms over his stomach and stared as Hannah turned toward him. Her eyes widened the moment she saw him and she pivoted immediately back around.

“Joe, I…I do want to come home. I want to try again. But if you’re still working for that unit, you have to be honest with me.” There was a long pause and she began to twist the phone cord between her elegant fingers. “Really? You promise?” The pause this time was even longer and Castiel saw her shoulders begin to shake a little. “Thank you. I know it is hard for you. Yes, I’ll see what I can do. I love you too. I love you.”

When she hung up the phone, her shoulders shook even more violently and Castiel crossed to stand behind her, putting his hands gently on her shoulders to hold her steady. Hannah faced away from him, wiping her hands across her eyes. She took deep, gulping breaths and trembled beneath his grip.

“Are you okay?” he asked and she sniffed several times before turning toward him. Her eyes were sparkling a little from unshed tears but she didn’t seem sad.

“Joe called. Bobby gave him your mother’s number and he was patched through. He’s on his way home to Montana. Honourable discharge.” She wiped at her cheeks again and shook her head. “He’s served his time and with his father dead, his mother is running that farm alone. He needs to go home.”

Castiel removed his hands. “So you want to go.”

She nodded. “I should. I appreciate everything you and the Winchesters and Mr. Singer did for me but I know where I have to be.”

“You still love him,” he said without any venom and she nodded again. “I understand.”

Hannah gave him a quirky smile. “I knew you would. It is hard though.” Reaching out, she took his hands in hers. “I truly enjoyed working with you, Castiel. You made that separation bearable.”

He felt her grip squeeze a little and he gave her a curious look at the earnest expression in hers. Hannah saw his confusion and only smiled before leaning forward and kissing his cheek.

“Thank you.”

He flushed a little. “You’re welcome.”

Hannah turned, slipped her arm through his, and led him toward the front porch. “Something’s bothering you. Every time I saw you in the past week, you look as if you’re deep in thought.”

Castiel wanted to tell her everything, everything he couldn’t tell anyone else, but his pain was more private than hers. Hannah had been quiet about her husband but he had known, in all their travels, that part of her had longed to go home. He had kept things from her, nearly everything that was personal, and to talk about it now would only open wounds he had no idea how to heal.

“Is it that Meg girl?” she asked astutely and he gave her a sharp look that made her chuckle. She took a seat on the porch-swing and stared up at him. “Come on, Castiel, I’m not blind. You were fine until you saw her again.”

“We have a history,” he said, carefully leaning against the railing. He sighed and looked out. “A history that keeps popping up.”

Hannah nodded and looked at her hands folded in her lap. “Castiel, you know when I took this job I thought: here is someone who understands that sometimes we change against our will. Life changes us.” She looked back up at him. “But sometimes it doesn’t change us that much. Everything I’ve ever experienced, with Joe, with you, has been leading me back to what I think I want to be.”

“What’s that?” he asked and she smiled.

“Happy. I know going home will make me happy.” Hannah’s blue eyes were sparkling again, this time with affection. “So do what makes you happy. Would you do that for me? Be happy.”

Castiel sighed. “I’m not sure I remember how to be.”

“It might be easier than you think.” She looked out at Olivia’s wild gardens. “It might be a lot easier if you just let yourself let go and be happy.”

“What brought this on?” he asked, feeling defensive at having so much focus on himself. Hannah only smiled wider and shook her head.

“I saw you make yourself miserable in the past few weeks. You went from being only about your work to sulking. I think, and you can ignore me if you like, that you need to figure out what it is you need. You. Not the Winchesters, not your family. You.” Hannah stood again and reached out to cup his cheek, her fingers cool on his skin. “I want that for you.”

Staring at her and seeing her sincerity so plain upon her face, Castiel could only nod. Leaning forward, she wrapped an arm around his shoulders before she pressed another kiss to his cheek, and then pulled away. “I need to pack. Will you drive me to the bus station and give Bobby my files?”

“Of course,” Castiel said. She smiled and headed into the house. Castiel watched her and before the door banged shut, he called her name. “Hannah?” She turned and he nodded. “Thank you.”

She grinned. “There’s never been the need to thank me for anything, Castiel, I only wanted to be your friend.”

“All the same, thank you.”

Hannah blushed prettily and headed into the house again to pack her things. Castiel turned back around and stared at the tree-lined driveway, his hands wrapping tight around the rail as he leaned. The rose bush below him was still dotted with red flowers and the sight of it made him think of Meg. After a long moment, he smiled to himself and nodded.

Yes, he did know what he wanted to do.

 


	20. Cry to Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Determined to let the memory of Castiel fade, Meg tries to go about her life. But when he shows up at her work again, she realizes that they might not be able to let each other go yet.

It was six in the evening once again when Meg left the hospital wrapped in her rose-print coat and her bag bumping along her hip. After another rough day, she ached but the prospect of the next day off was too good to linger on bad feet and a sore head. A hot bath maybe, she thought, and something from the diner so she that didn’t have to boil potatoes and eat pickled fish again. Her stomach churned at the thought. Considering she didn’t really cook, it wasn’t a bad plan to stop in at that new takeout place another nurse had turned her on to. She glared at a pair of men who cat-called her as she left the building and then ran for the cover of the store awnings to avoid the drizzle. The whole time she grumbled to herself about frizzy hair and soaked shoes. It had been a rainy autumn so far and it suited her mood right now.

Meg was aware that since spilling her story to Castiel in the diner she hadn’t been the same. Her mood had worsened and the dreams of Dr. Star, Crowley and Lil had come back. Reliving it after seven years of stuffing those memories into a tiny mental box hadn’t done much for her. Now Castiel had likely gone home to pray for her soul or whatever nonsense he was into these days. Or gone running off with the Winchesters on some hare-brained mission.

There was no way Meg was ever going to think that she might have missed him in those years, that she still thought about him sometimes and was disappointed he wasn’t around now. But she also knew where she ranged on the scale of his priorities and it wasn’t high compared to his apparent devotion to helping the Singer Company and Winchesters in their suppose ‘top-secret missions’.

It was better to forget Castiel all together as some sort of young infatuation. A flirtation with a lazy happiness she had never had before, nothing more than that. It was something that had been impossible at the time and was impossible now. She should never have come back to Harrow in the first place where such memories lingered. If she was smart, she’d get out now.

Meg was stewing over possible places she could go to —Wichita maybe — when a hand grasped her shoulder. Spinning around, she grabbed the wrist and twisted viciously left before slamming her palm into a hard chest. The impact made her hand sting but she was let go and she readied herself for trouble.

Castiel stumbled back in shock, clutching his chest as he coughed violently. Meg let him go and watched as he blinked several times and shook his head and wrist at the same time. When he stopped gasping for air, his blue eyes darted up to her in surprise.

“Where did you learn to do that?” he asked.

“Always knew it. You just never surprised me before,” Meg said. “Are you okay?”

“Will be once the world stops spinning,” he muttered and he closed his eyes for a moment. He even swayed a little on his feet. Heaving a sigh, Meg set her bag down on the sidewalk and reached out to grasp his jaw.

“Look at me.”

His eyes opened again and Meg tried to ignore the snared feeling she felt when he looked at her so directly. The blue of his gaze was too intent, too searching and too familiar. Instead, she looked for any signs that he was likely to faint and snorted.

“You’ll live.” She let him go and picked up her bag. “What’s with trying to give a girl a heart attack?”

“I called your name several times before I caught up to you,” Castiel pointed out. He gave his hand another shake and rubbed at his wrist. “Apparently you weren’t listening.”

Meg tucked an unpinned curl behind her ear. “Sorry.” He stared at her for a long minute as she fixed her ruffled bun and Meg frowned. “What?”

Immediately his eyes dropped away. “Oh, nothing.”

“So what’d you want? Besides scaring a poor defenceless girl,” she asked. Castiel scoffed.

“You’re hardly defenceless.”

“Dirt poor though,” she said with a wink as she turned around him and headed down the sidewalk. Castiel fell into step beside her, his long overcoat brushing her hand as he kept close to avoid bumping into anyone else.

“I was hoping I could…I mean, that we could…go for another coffee.”

Meg frowned and glanced at him. “Why? I thought I explained everything.”

“Meg, I’d like to talk more with you. It has been seven years and I think that—,” he began and she stopped in the middle of the walk, forcing other people to flow around them. He stopped as well and stood before her, dark hair shining with the rain as he gazed down his nose at her. Meg wrinkled her nose as droplets went down the back of her collar and made her shiver, but she managed to try to look imperious, staring up at him.

“Come on, Clarence, what are you expecting here? Future pen pals? Best friends or something?”

“I have enough friends,” he answered. “Why? Don’t you?”

Stung, Meg ground her teeth together and started off down the walk once more. Castiel sighed and caught up to her in just two strides, his much longer legs let him shadow her until she finally stopped again and looked up at him.

“Cass, what’s the idea? You still sweet on me or something?” she demanded.

He took a moment of simply staring at her before shrugging a shoulder and nodding. “I suppose so.”

Meg looked at him as if he had grown two heads. “Clarence, you can’t be. Seven years is a long time and what with everything that happened? That’s not exactly romance worthy. Let’s not play pretend here.”

“Maybe.” He held out his hand palm up toward her and crooked his fingers. “But what could a coffee hurt?”

Looking at the beckoning hand, Meg kept her own at her side. “I should get home. It’s been a long day and I really just need to relax.”

“I see.” He put his hand back down and Meg frowned at his expression. He looked tired himself.

“Did you walk all this way?” she asked and he nodded. She shook her head. “Clarence, you are something else.”

“So you’ve told me before,” he said with lazy amusement. Meg glanced at him up and down.

“How about you walk me to the store and then home? I could use the extra pair of hands.” He looked so delighted when she handed him her bag that Meg nearly made a biting remark about him feeling guilty but stifled it. “Did you really come all this way to walk with me or is this just coincidence?”

Castiel put the bag in his other hand and reached out to take her elbow, his grip gentle and guiding. “No such thing as coincidence, I’ve learned,” he explained. “But I do have to be honest… I didn’t know that you were working.”

“What if I hadn’t been working?” Meg asked as she relaxed into the hold on her arm.

“I would have come by tomorrow. Next day maybe. Though I think I would be wiser and call the hospital first.”

She shook her head and matched her strides to his longer ones as best as she could. “You got lucky then.”

“I realize that,” he said as they stopped on the curb together. “Where are we going?”

“I don’t have any food at my place. So takeout it is.” Almost feeling nervous, she glanced up at him. “Just to be clear, that’s not an invitation.”

“I didn’t expect it to be.”

#

Carefully balancing several of cartons of takeout, Meg walked with Castiel down the main street. It was a strange feeling, to be here again, and in public together. There were still looks, men and women who likely thought they recognized her, but with her absence and change of looks they were unsure what to think she guessed and so she was able to walk with Castiel without fear of being insulted to her face. His intimidating if not silent presence helped. He kept his free hand on her elbow the entire time and rather than find it irritating, Meg found it to be a strange comfort as they turned to walk down the back alleys.

“You care if we sit for a bit?” she asked as they passed a stack of crates behind a bakery. It was still a ten minute walk back to her apartment and her aching feet were crying for relief. Castiel let her go and she immediately set down her food onto a crate before hopping onto another one, toeing off her cramped shoes with a sigh of pleasure. Checking to be sure they were alone, he set down her bag and took a seat beside her. He watched her rub her stockinged feet roughly and frowned when she gave a moan of pained relief.

“Your shoes hurt you, so why do you wear them?” he asked and Meg winced as she hit a particularly sensitive ache.

“Hospital standard. I wear them out fast since I’m on my feet all day. This time they didn’t have my size so I’m making do until I get enough money again. Rent in this area is killing me.”

“You can’t move? Perhaps uptown?”

“In Harrow?” Meg made a face. “Let’s just say that not everyone has forgotten who I was and what I’ve done.”

“I see.” He folded his hands into his lap and looked at the brick wall opposite them. Castiel twiddled his thumbs as she rubbed her feet and then noisily cleared his throat. “Meg, I…”

Sensing coming seriousness, Meg ground her fingers into the cusp of her big toe and flashed him a grin. “So what happened to you for seven years for real?” she broke in.

He sighed and shrugged. “Not much.”

“No? Then why’d you leave and stay away for so long?”

Castiel muttered under his breath, too low for her to hear, and looked down the alley instead of answering her.

“Seems like you ran away,” she pointed out.

“Isn’t that what you did?” he countered sharply and Meg nodded.

“But what else was there, right?” she asked. “You were so frantic about what your family thought, and I figured why not take the problem away from you? So you could handle the blackmail your way and get me out of your hair. Worked, didn’t it?”

“At a cost,” Castiel said and he looked back at her. Neither of them dared to bring up what the cost had been. “What we did for the government was secret. Most of it was hunting ghosts, so to speak, dead ends and inside jobs. It couldn’t last forever. So I came home with the Winchesters, until I could make up my mind what I want to do.”

“Yeah? Well, I don’t recommend nursing for you. Don’t think you’ve got the chops,” she jibed but he didn’t catch her sarcasm.

“No. I might use my savings and write and edit. Anything that could let me just be myself.” Castiel was staring at the wall again. “Something that I want to do, for once.”

“Thought you’d be all fired up to go back to being saintly.”

He shrugged his shoulders as if distributing a heavy weight. “After what I was raised to believe, after everything that told me how to behave, I still failed to be what others think of as good. I suppose that I’m more rebellious than I thought.”

Meg chuckled and wriggled her toes in the air. “Being bad looks so good on you, Clarence.”

She glanced up through her lashes when he made a startled grunt. He looked at her closely and she raised her eyebrows a little in response, a smirk playing upon her lips. His eyes lowered to her mouth, lingered there for a long moment, and then flicked away to the people passing on the walk close-by. The tempting smell of her food wafted between them but Meg quieted her rumbling stomach when Castiel started to talk again.

“I was wondering, Meg, what life might have been like if we had managed not to run away from Harrow years ago.”

She made a face. “Probably would have wound up back here anyway.”

“Like fate?” he asked. “I would have thought you didn’t believe in that.”

“Not fate,” Meg said. “Just reality. It would have ended the same, I’d sell my soul on that one.”

She missed his uncomfortable glance. “Really?”

“Us? We wouldn’t have lasted. Too different. I mean, would you really have thought we could have ever had a peachy keen life, being whatever it was we were back then?”

Castiel was quiet for a while and Meg’s smirk softened a little as she continued to rub her feet. She knew what she had said had stung his memory of them. Finally, he tilted his head and nodded as if coming to a decision. “Maybe I would have tried anyway,” he said.

Meg side-eyed him. “You keep talking like that, I’ll start thinking you wanted more than just sex from me back then,” she murmured and he gently put his hand atop hers.

“I didn’t realize it back then but…I think I did want more than that from you.” He gave a rueful smile when her eyes widened though the suspicious look didn’t leave her face. “Funny how it sometimes takes years to realize something so important.”

She struggled to think of something snippy to respond with, something to drive this conversation into more neutral ground. Anything to avoid this tension slowly building between them. Instead, she brushed her hands over her skirt and picked up her takeout cartons.

“We should get going. You don’t want to be walking home in the dark across town. But you can head back if you want, Clarence. I know my way,” she said as she tried to wriggle her feet into her shoes, barely able to reach the heels from where she sat. Murmuring for her to stay still, Castiel rose and crouched down to help her, his hand cupping her ankle as he slipped the heel on. Meg stared at him as he caressed his fingertips lightly over her calf before he reached for her other foot to repeat the gesture, his hand still lingering longer than it should have. Then he lowered her foot back down and straightened up, extending his hand toward her.

Barely knowing why, she slid her hand into his and let him help her stand as she hopped down. She wriggled her toes inside her shoes, making a face at the persistent ache, and neatly balanced her food beneath her arm. Castiel stopped to pick up her bag for her and without breaking the silence they started for the street once more. Meg was aware of how warm his fingers were around hers when he helped her skip over a puddle on the corner of the street but she didn’t remove her hand, instead letting the steady pressure of his grip give her an odd sense of comfort.

He let her go though when they passed a gaggle of church women heading home from evening service at the tiny church near the corner and they were both aware of the looks they were shot. Meg sneered at one of the older women when she caught the up and down look she was given but had to press into Castiel’s side to avoid being mowed down by another larger woman crowned by a massive straw hat. The woman’s shoulder hit hers with full brutal intent and Meg stumbled into Castiel, forcing him to wrap an arm around her waist to keep her from falling

“Slut,” the woman muttered and Meg started to turn to snap back at her.

Castiel’s arm squeezed around her waist tighter and he lowered his head so she could see his frown. “Let it go. She’s not worth it,” he warned in a whisper. Meg sputtered out a curse but still followed his lead, her anger at being insulted and having to let it slide making her flush and nearly pull away.

His hand slid down her hip and she felt the heat of him seem to increase as he pressed closer to avoid another group of women. When she started to walk away from him, Castiel took her elbow with another absentminded grip and followed her around the corner to a quiet side-street. Narrow buildings, early 1920s and eccentrically built in a crooked close fashion, lined the street with small but busy store fronts on the first level and apartments above. It was familiar, Castiel realized, and he slowed down to gaze into a grocer’s window and a pharmacy display. Much of Harrow was like this, divided by nearly invisible lines, and those just making a living likely lived in this area. It was, at least, not like Meg’s old home in the roughest part of town. Here she might be safe.

It made him relax a little and he softened his touch on her elbow until his fingers just rested against the material of her coat. Meg started to slow down, heels making scuffing sounds, as she paused outside a gated store. Through the long patio he could see a storefront decorated with beads and mystical Oriental paintings. Following her through the gate, Castiel frowned and looked up at a swinging, hand-painted sign that declared ‘The Psychic of Kansas’, while beneath it was a tinier sign that said ‘Rooms Rented - No Vacancy’.

“A psychic for a landlord?” he asked as he handed Meg her bag and took the takeout from her. Meg fished in her bag for her keys and leaned against the iron gate that shut off the side stairs from the store.

“Pam Barnes. Newly arrived so she doesn’t really know my past. I’m her only boarder upstairs so it is pretty quiet. Can be a witch but she’s all right. She’s a party girl but doesn’t want me having men in my rooms without her knowing. Says it’s for my safety.” She looked up as she found her keys, and flashed him a grin while she pushed a large skeleton key into the highest lock on the gate. “Heard she met the Winchesters and tried to come on to Dean but he dodged that bullet. He’s hanging around Benny and Sam a lot in the backroads. Making trouble, from what Benny told me.”

“Dean has been distracted,” Castiel agreed. “Is she…kind to you?”

“Much as she can be. I pay my rent, stay out of her hair as she works over people with this psychic scam, and she’s happy with it all.” Meg popped the door open and stared at the long and narrow flight of stairs. Sighing, she turned around and took the boxes from Castiel. “This is my stop. Thanks for the escort.”

“I was happy to. It is… it is good to talk with you again, Meg.” Castiel stared up the stairs instead of at her and she nodded, wondering what he was thinking.

“You too. Though I’m a bit weirded-out thinking that you wanted to hang around me again,” she admitted. Castiel turned the full effect of his blue eyes on her and to cover the unexpected punch it delivered she stepped back a bit with a snarky smile. “What are you, a sucker for punishment?”

“I wouldn’t call it that,” he said. He looked up at the overcast sky and then down the street. “I should head home before it gets too late. I’ll see you around then?”

“Yeah, later, Clarence.” After her casual dismissal he started off down the sidewalk, and Meg turned away while she juggled her packages around. She just had her foot on the first step when she felt a few drops of cold rain. The rumble of thunder made her turn to see Castiel’s broad shoulders hunched up already to ward off the coming downpour. He’d never make it home without getting soaked. She bit into her lower lip and watched him thoughtfully as he stood on the corner and waited for traffic to let him cross.

“What the hell,” she whispered before shouldering her bag higher and leaning out the doorway. Pursing her lips, she let out a piercing whistle that sliced through the quiet street. Castiel stopped mid-stride off the curb. He turned and fixed her with a curious look that made Meg wave her hand impatiently.

“Come on,” she called out.

He didn’t argue with her this time and jogged back to stand beneath the awning with her. “Something wrong?” he asked, brushing rain off of his face.

“Did you want to come up for a coffee while you wait for the rain to stop? We can finish our talk and it would be better than getting soaked. I want to hear all about the Reds and ghost hunting,” Meg blurted out in such a rush that it made him blink a few times as he digested her offer.

“Are you sure? Your landlady might not like it,” he began and Meg shrugged, handing Castiel her boxes.

“Then just be extra quiet and don’t stomp up the stairs,” she warned. “Come on, you walked me home, least I can do is get you a coffee and keep you out of the rain for a little bit.”

“It is late,” he tried and Meg grinned, heading up the stairs anyway. When she heard him behind her, she turned to face him. They were so close that they were nearly nose to nose, and she winked at his perplexed expression.

“Come on, Cinderella, I won’t keep you past midnight.”

He grumbled. “I understood that and my name is not Cinderella.”

“Clarence then. I’ll even give you some noodles and chicken for your trouble,” she said to tempt him and Castiel sighed.

“I am a little hungry,” he admitted. Meg smiled and turned around to head up the staircase, aware of Castiel staying close and walking as quietly as possible. The old building creaked noisily but on the second level Pam had her radio on and the pop music was loud enough to cover their footsteps. Meg brought Castiel up to the third landing and unlocked her door before pushing it open with her hip and elbow.

“Home sweet home,” she said with a contented sigh as she set her bag down on the closest side table. Castiel stopped just inside the door, relinquishing the food to her, and hesitated within the tiny foyer. Meg nodded to the nearby coat pegs as she kicked the door shut behind him. “Take off your coat, Clarence, and stay awhile.”

Though he felt uneasy being in her space like this, Castiel obeyed and tried not to react when she brushed by him to turn on a lamp. At the loud snap, the room was filled with a warm glow and he could fully see the bedsitter Meg called home. It was a small apartment, a bachelor with one room that combined her living space, kitchen, and double bed, and he saw a bathroom tucked just beside the foyer. There was a door leading to a balcony that overlooked the rear of the property and several large windows staggered around the room that let in the light of the street. It was cramped and yet cozy. Meg had obviously tried to make it a home despite how tiny it was.

Setting the food on the counter that divided her kitchen from the living space, Meg went to the wall unit beside her tiny couch and turned on her record player. “To cover up the footsteps,” she explained as she rifled through her records, humming as she did so. He nodded and turned to find himself face to face with a large black cat that sat on her kitchen counter just beneath an open window. Its stump of a tail beat an irritated rhythm on the cracked ceramic as it watched Meg and meowed furiously.

“Hello,” Castiel said and its singular eye fixed on him with green-eyed disgust and hunger. “Who is this?”

Chuckling, Meg removed her scarf and coat and tossed them on her sofa. “That’s Steve. He’s a stray who wandered in a month ago. Gave him some food so he keeps coming back.” She passed him to rub the cat’s tattered ears and it purred loudly, watching her as she opened a takeout carton next. “He comes and goes and he’s not really a pet but he’s company sometimes.”

The cat meowed again and Meg frowned as she stuck her nose into her cupboard to look for something.

“Hello, Steve, where did you come from?” Castiel asked as he reached out to pet the shining black fur. The cat immediately bristled and yowled at him before swiping with a well-aimed paw that caught Castiel on the sleeve. He jerked his hand back and stared at it in surprise. Normally animals liked him. “You’re not a nice cat, are you?”

“Steve doesn’t like anyone. I think he’s got a bad past.”

“I see.” He looked the cat in its unscarred eye. “I think you and I should talk about that.”

“Cass, don’t interrogate my cat,” Meg said as she put a hunk of chicken salad onto a saucer and set it on the counter by the window. The cat glared at him and hissed once more before going to the plate of food and grumbling as it wolfed down its meal. Meg wiped her hands on a tea-towel and passed Castiel again to put the needle down on the record she’d chosen. Castiel didn’t recognize the singer but the harmony was a deep, driving beat and the lyrics were suggestive enough to make him raise an eyebrow at her. Meg grinned and tossed the towel onto the counter. “I’m not that changed, Castiel.”

“I can tell,” he said as he stepped back into her living space. He watched the cat finish its dinner and then hop immediately out the window with a pleased meow. Meg scooped up the plate and headed for her nearly bare cupboards again. She rummaged through and winced at what she found.

“Don’t have much. Coffee? Or beer? I think I have a bottle or two saved.”

“Coffee’s fine.”

She gestured for him to sit after putting the kettle on to boil. “Be a minute.”

He contented himself with watching her make coffee instead. Once she had the coffee in cups and the kettle started to whistle, Meg finally turned and caught his lingering gaze. When she noticed that he wasn’t looking away, she tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear and turned her head away. Over her shoulder, she pointed at him.

“Strange to see you looking so…different. Out of preacher suits and all. Guess things do change. You look more like a normal person now,” Meg explained and he nodded, leaning back against the wall. He took in the bedsitter curiously rather than continue the attempt at small talk.

Meg’s knickknacks had grown in the years but were still sparse compared to the other women he knew. A radio, a record player, paintings and photographs of distant places, and he saw books on the shelves as well. All signs of a woman he’d missed and signs of her life she’d made without him. It made him uncomfortable thinking about how much he hadn’t really known her before. It was hard enough realizing that he hadn’t considered looking deeper than the surface of their unusual relationship.

Meg busied herself with making coffee and didn’t notice the way he stared at her and her surroundings. Her kitchen was tiny and with the living area just within a few feet of it there was a strange intimacy as well that was becoming more apparent the longer he stood in the living room. Castiel turned so the bed was blocked from view. As he watched Meg move around the kitchen, he smiled. She was talking to herself again, this time about how much she needed to go shopping.

Meg noticed him staring. “What?”

“You’ve settled well. This place somehow suits you.”

She shrugged a shoulder. “Had to settle for it. Either this or live on the street. It was Mr. Cain who helped out with that. He gave me a bit of money on loan when I got into nursing and in the end it made a difference. Otherwise I would be sunk.”

Castiel felt an inane jealousy towards the older man and tried to ignore it. “I wish I had been able to help you,” he said instead.

Meg didn’t say anything as she spooned creamer into the coffee cups. But he saw her rub at her stomach with her free hand as if it ached and he wondered why. Eventually, she banged her spoon on a cup and glanced at him. “I won’t lie, Cass. It’s been… hard. But it is better right now for me than it was a few years ago. All that schooling was hard. Scraping by and trying to make sense of everything was worse. Least now I get some respect without having to beat people into submission for it.”

“So you just plan on being a nurse?” he asked casually and she shrugged, licking the spoon. Castiel frowned. “No plans of having a family? Travelling?”

“Maybe travel if I ever get time off and money.” She turned away and set the spoon in the sink. Meg toed off her heels and kicked them into the corner of her kitchen. She suddenly laughed. “Besides, can you really see me being a housewife to anyone? I’d be so bad at it.”

He chuckled. “I’m not sure I can argue with that.”

Nodding, Meg poured the coffee into the two chipped cups. “Want to drink it on the balcony? There’s an awning so it will be dry,” she offered over her shoulder. “Fresh air would do us some good. We could relax for a while.”

Castiel ran his eyes over her as she approached. “Your landlady might hear us talking.”

She grinned. “Pam gets loaded every night on bathtub gin. Trust me, she won’t notice.”

“I’d like that then. We can talk, if that’s what you want to do,” Castiel said as he reached out to take the coffee cup she offered.

Meg’s fingers brushed his around the chipped ceramic and the effect was electric. He almost forgot to breathe while he stared at her, searching her eyes for some sign that she felt what he felt. A flush of heat crawled over his skin and it was a feeling he hadn’t had in a long time, a feeling he had forgotten could completely put his world off balance. Meg stared at their hands for a moment before her eyes raised to his face and she seemed to look for something in him as well. The contact, denied them for years, burned hot and Castiel saw the way her lips parted in reaction, saw how her eyes flicked over his face and her eyebrows arched a little. He remembered this look. It wasn’t embarrassment he saw in her eyes or hesitation or even fear.

It was desire.

“Clarence,” she whispered in a longing tone that made a hot ache carve through him and the cup smashed to the floor as he reached for her. He grasped her by the forearms and pulled her forward, not caring how his shoes crunched the broken cup. She made a soft moaning sound as she stepped over a puddle of hot coffee to meet him halfway, both arms going about his shoulders as she raised herself up to take his kiss. He softened his hold only long enough to wrap his arms around her waist. Their lips met with a smacking sound and immediately her mouth opened to his, her fingers sliding up his shoulders to pull him closer. Groaning in relief at the force of her kiss, Castiel cupped her hips in his hands and pivoted sharply to push her up against the wall with a solid thump, leaning into her to feel the whole of her body. Meg kissed him furiously, moaning as he bit and sucked at her lower lip, and her nails dragged against the back of his neck as she pressed against him.

Feeling her leg lift and hook up around his hip, Castiel lowered his hand to slide up her thigh, feeling silk lining and garter straps. He swept her skirt up out of the way and Meg’s leg tightened around him as he rocked into her, his own arousal coming on hot and painful when he felt her nails dig into his skin. He tried to bring her even closer but she broke away and began to feverishly kiss along his jaw. When he shuddered and squeezed her thigh hard, she moaned in his ear and her arms slipped around his neck to bring him closer again.

“Oh hell, I missed you,” she whispered and he trembled when he felt her tongue flick out against his earlobe.

“I missed you too,” he breathed against her neck while his hand curved up about her thigh and his fingertips brushed against the apex between her thighs. “You still feel like heaven.”

“Still a bad poet, huh?” she drawled and he shook his head, running his other hand up her throat. He tried to unpin her hair from its knot, tossing bobby pins to the floor. When Meg sighed and scratched her nails against the nape of his neck, he moved his mouth from her neck to her lips to kiss her deeply once more. His tongue slid against hers in slow repeated strokes, until she moaned and fought to kiss him back just as hard and desperately.

The desire radiating off of him was so devastatingly wonderful that she nearly lost her control. Castiel groaned against her mouth and his hand slid further up her thigh. Meg yelped as his still cool fingers made contact with her panties and slipped beneath to find her already wet. Before he could do more than skim his fingers against her centre, she pushed him back and started to remove his suit jacket. Her fingers fumbled with getting it over his shoulders and when it hit the floor she started on his shirt, fighting to get him unbuttoned. Everything seemed so much more complicated than ever before. She hadn’t been in here in so long, Meg knew, that she was rusty and her fingers seemed to have a mind of their own.

Castiel didn’t seem to care. Reaching between them, he reached for the buttons on her uniform dress, unclasping them in a hurry with his own shaking fingers. Meg let the dress fall with a shrug of her shoulders and a laugh. When he saw that under her dress she still was wearing clothes, Castiel groaned again and began to fumble with the tricky eyelet clasps on the back of her underdress. Meg laughed again when he failed to get the hooks right and the underdress refused to be pulled apart. Castiel growled, spinning her about and pushing her face first against the wall as he attacked the hooks with hard yanks. He didn’t care that he was ruining it when he felt the soft skin beneath the starchy cotton and there was a loud rip as the hooks gave way. The dress fell about her shoulders and she pulled it down to her hips.

Castiel roughly pressed up behind her and he began to remove his button-down and undershirt. As he let the clothes fall to the floor, she leaned back into him so that he felt the heat of her skin on his and he ached all the more for it. Burying his face into her hair, he inhaled deeply and grasped her tighter, splaying his fingers over her stomach.

“Too fast?” he asked even as he moved his hips up against her, needing more contact, and Meg shook her head.

“Not fast enough,” she muttered, breath hitching in her throat.

His lips traced her neck and found the spot below her ear, and Meg trembled and sagged a little against him as the sensitive skin prickled at his touch. His hand moved down the curve of her belly as the other cupped her breast to rub over her nipple until it almost hurt. Groaning, Meg shoved the dress down off her knees and pushed back against him hard, gasping for breath when he pressed her into the wall again. Castiel nudged her feet apart with his foot and let his head fall to her shoulder as he ran his hands over her body with long, sure strokes.

“So much for talking,” Meg croaked and he smiled against her skin. Then his hand went between her legs and tugged her panties down over the curve of her rear and over her garters. She shimmied out of them and kicked them to the side as he renewed his sensual attack on her neck, until she was sure she had marks decorating her pale skin. Her breasts were still small enough that she often went without a bra and she was glad of it today when he cupped her breast and teased her with twists and tugs until she began to moan and rock against him again.

His hand left her suddenly and she groaned at the loss until she felt his fingers move up her neck. Castiel was reaching for the tie in her hair when she pushed away from the wall and shoved him backward. He landed on the edge of the bed and sat heavily, staring at her with wry amusement as she crossed the floor to him and unwound her hair from its complicated knot.

She was sinful, he thought, with her blonde hair flowing down to her shoulders in messy waves while dressed in a black garter belt and stockings. Her breasts perked in the cool draft and she ran her hands down over herself to warm herself up. Her eyebrow arched high at his expression and she grinned back, moving slowly toward him. Castiel leaned back on his elbows as she approached, appreciating the view as she moved with a seductive sway to her hips. He saw the scars above her pelvis, the old marks of years of hard abuse, and the still rangy thinness to her from her life spent barely scraping by. There had been so much pain and darkness and it showed on her body and lingered in her eyes.

He hadn’t seen anything so beautiful in years.

Meg put one knee between his legs and leaned over until their lips pressed together. At his soft murmur, she began kissing him hotly and sliding her tongue against his until Castiel stiffened and reached for her again. Her hands started on his belt and he helped her as he leaned back on the mattress, pulling her into him until she was flush against him. Together they scooted backward on the bed and she laughed into his mouth as he wriggled free of his trousers, toeing off his shoes and socks at her pointed look. Her hand tugged on his underpants until he raised his hips for her and then finally he was as naked as she was, exposed to the coolness of the room and her own hot stare. She was still chuckling as he grunted when her knee caught him in the thigh and he grasped her by the hips. Her chuckle died in her throat when he moved fast and twisted her beneath him.

“You think this is funny?” he demanded and she stretched her arms overhead, elongating her body.

“You’re just a gas, Clarence,” she said as she giggled and and arched her back. He ignored her comment and began to drop kisses along her chest, the franticness of their movements becoming a slow slide as he paused at her breast and took her nipple into his mouth, nearly devouring her with loud wet sounds. Meg moaned and put her hands in his hair, holding him there as he bit and sucked with fervour until she began to writhe and whisper for more. His hands curved under her body and held her up against him. Meg’s legs opened and he felt her stocking-clad knees slide up his hips with silken intent.

He dropped his mouth to her other breast, intent on making her moan once more but she pushed against him to let her up. He stayed on his knees beside her while she reached for her night-table and dug through to blindly find a rubber. She yanked hard when the drawer was stuck and it went flying across the room but not before she found what she wanted with a triumphant chuckle.

Dropping it on the pillow, Meg turned back around and dug her fingers into Castiel’s shoulders to lead him where she wanted him. Castiel shook his head at her playfulness and he began to kiss down her body, his tongue leaving slick trails that his breath blew over and caused her to shiver.

“Cass,” Meg growled impatiently and arched her hips, bumping his erection. She began to grind up against him until his cock was coated in her wetness. “Come on, don’t be a tease.”

He hissed and held her hips down as he brushed his mouth over the thatch of dark hair between her legs. Every fantasy he had ever had about Meg came roaring back and he suddenly wanted far more than those fantasies and memories of seven years ago. Fingers slipping beneath her garters to grip her skin, he pressed a kiss to the wet heat of her and tasted pure desire dripping from her. Before he could settle between her legs to taste more of her, her hands raked along his shoulders again.

“Can’t wait. Get up here,” she commanded and he followed the pull of her hands to brace over her body, getting on his knees. He grabbed the condom from the pillow and ripped the package open with his teeth. Meg sat up, tossing her hair over her shoulder as she yanked the sheath from him and rolled it on before he had time to register that she had taken control again. Stunned, he stared at her intent expression and was speechless when she rolled him over to his back.

Her hands clasped his fingers tight and she slid her leg over his hips to rub herself against his erection again.

“Fast girl,” he muttered and she snickered.

“You know it, baby. Hold tight.” She sank down onto his cock inch by slow inch and moaned lowly as she took him all the way until they were pelvis to pelvis. Castiel sank back on the bed and closed his eyes at the hot, tight feel of her. Her knees dug into his hips and her fingers were tight around his and he loved every second of it. Here he felt wanted, needed, and coupled with the sensation of being inside of her it was almost too much too soon. Meg’s body formed a beautiful bow as she threw her head back and groaned, rotating her hips in slow circles atop him. She let his fingers go to lean backward and used her hands to brace on the bed behind her. Castiel opened his eyes and stared in awe at her as she moved in sensuous rhythm.

“My fast girl,” he whispered before running his hand up the centre of her body, feeling contracting muscles and velvety skin. He thrust his hips against her as best he could, fully aware that he was too enthralled with how beautiful she looked to do little more than admire her. He couldn’t resist pressing old familiar buttons though and Meg cried out when he flicked his thumb across her nipple and then cupped her breast. As he began to squeeze in tandem with her movements, he felt her clench around him. She slid up in his lap and shifted, her eyes on his as her mouth fell open. It was happening so fast, so fast that he couldn’t linger and marvel that he held her once more, and for the life of him he didn’t care.

“Cass,” she breathed. “Hell, I remember this. So good.”

Speechless, he nodded and sat up so that he could cradle her in his arms, hearing her shuddering breaths as he drew her close. She leaned into him, her hips rising and falling, and one hand reached over to hold onto the creaking headboard as she ground into him. When she lifted her pelvis, the warm drag of her made him gasp and clutch her hips.

“Meg, stop teasing,” he groaned at her and his hands held her hips to force her to thrust harder down onto him. When she chuckled, he dropped his hand and rubbed his thumb against her clit until she jerked and pushed into his hand with a sigh. Needing more of that desperate movement, Castiel lowered his head to suckle on her breast and the hard pressure made her cry out and move faster. He felt almost smug that she was reacting so much to him until he felt her breathing coming faster and faster. He pressed one last nip to her breast before leaning up to nudge her chin with his nose. When her head lowered, he captured her lips with his and kissed her until he knew she was going to start to shiver.

He felt her come apart in his arms and her body shook hard as she held the headboard for support. Leveraging himself upright, Castiel drove up into her again and again, crying out against her breasts as he chased that indescribable feeling he knew she shared. Meg was almost sobbing as she rode out her orgasm, her head thrown back again and her sweated hair clinging to her skin. Castiel felt himself throb inside her clenching heat and he let go when he heard her whisper his name, the startling release so powerful he sagged against her even as his hips still pushed hard, nearly lifting her off the bed completely.

They stayed up against one another until his hips stopped twitching and her body stopped rolling against his. Castiel groaned deeply. His body burned with exertion and he could feel her shivering as well. It was over so quickly and yet he was utterly exhausted. Meg sank into his arms with a sigh and when she nestled into his body he twisted with her on the bed so that they lay side by side. He could feel every nerve throbbing and in his excitement he nearly blurted out what he had come here to say in the first place,

“Meg, I…”

Her hand came over his mouth and he kissed her fingertips when she kept them pressed against his lips. “Shh. Just…let’s not talk right now.”

Castiel nodded and pulled her closer, until she was tucked into his shoulder and her hips still cradled his. She reached down and removed the condom from him with a sure grip that caused his body to try to surge to life once more. But sated and relaxed, he simply buried his face into her neck and sighed. He heard her murmur and felt her arms slide around his shoulders until she held him tightly against her. He shifted up in the bed and let her drape across his chest.

Even though he wanted to say something, anything, that could let her know how he felt, Castiel only relaxed and ran his fingers through her mussed hair as Meg slowly drifted to sleep.

 

 


	21. It had to be you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sensual morning after seduces Castiel into believing things could be right once again. Only Meg's stormy nature is just as determined to keep her grounded in reality

The record was skipping with low humming ticks as the needle ran over the interior label and the low growl of noise was what woke Castiel from his first deep sleep in years. He groaned and rubbed at his eyes as he craned his neck to see what was making the noise, unable to move much further. When he saw the moon high in the sky outside the kitchen window, he sleepily turned his attention back to the weight on his chest. Meg was draped across his body, sound asleep, and he stared at her peaceful face for a while. He lifted his hand from her back and brushed the hair from her cheeks and his fingers lingered on the curve of her jaw.

Castiel stared for a while before the sound grated on his nerves and he felt a nervous tic begin as a result. Gently, he nudged Meg over and moved from beneath her. She curled up into the pillow as his heat left her. He stood and made his way across the tiny living space, stretching his aching body with a satisfied grunt. The moon was now high and the chill in the apartment was enough for him to keep to the rough carpet as he crossed the floor to the tiny alcove where the player sat.

He crouched naked before the player and flipped through Meg’s small collection. Castiel didn’t know much about modern music but he enjoyed it well enough. An old favourite of Meg’s was Billie Holiday, her own father’s favourite from years before, and with a smile Castiel selected a record and slipped it out of the sleeve. Meg made a soft sound behind him and he glanced over his shoulder to see she had rolled to her side toward him. Her garters and hose were a mess and her hair was rumpled, but underneath the messy tumble of her he saw only the open invitation of being with her again. Still smiling, he put the record on and went to the kitchen to fill up a pitcher of water.

Meg was grumbling in her sleep when he came back to her side and set a glass down on the nightstand after he took a long drink himself. Grabbing a patchwork quilt from the sofa, he unfolded it over Meg’s body before slipping back in beside her. He settled back down against the headboard, shoulders pressed into the pillow, and began tracing her back with his hand.

One sleepy eye cracked open at him. “Hey, Clarence.” She moaned and turned over to turn on the small lamp so she could see the clock on the wall. “Still late?”

“Yes. Far too early to get up.” Castiel firmed his touch a little and felt her body begin to warm once more.

“Good. I’m not ready to get up yet.” She nestled into the quilt and he drew her closer until she was fully against him. It was surprising she was letting him hold her now but he wasn’t about to question it. Her warmth was intoxicating and he felt himself stir at her nearness. The soft, beautiful voice singing through the apartment made for a comfortable mood and he closed his eyes as he held her.

His hand slipped down her hip to her belly and he felt the scars there. Meg stiffened a little but when he simply outlined the strips of puckered skin, she relaxed and put her cheek against his chest. Castiel slid his finger up into her hair and untangled a tiny knot before stroking his fingers through her hair. She took a deep breath and he thought he felt her hand slip down his abdomen.

“You’re pretty quiet. How’re you feeling?” she asked and her nails scratched over his stomach.

Castiel fought the urge to rise into her touch. “I haven’t done this for a while,” he admitted. “I assume…what I did was still correct?”

Meg chuckled. Her breath was warm against his skin and he felt her tongue flick against his nipple. “Not bad for being out of practice, Clarence. I would never have known,” she said. She hesitated a little and then moved so she was lying across his chest. Her chin was propped up on his solar plexus and he looked down at her curiously. With one finger, she began to trace over the curve of his lean muscles until he was aware of a blossoming ache.

“You’re thinking,” he said. “I can tell.”

“Been so long for me, I think I should be asking you if I was up to your memory,” she answered. Her eyes flicked up to him, looking black in the shadows of the room, and he stared in surprise. Her mouth quirked a little to the side. “Trust me, after what Star did, I didn’t want any man touching me that way.”

“But Benny,” he began and she laughed.

“Ben’s got his eye on something more than me.” Her hand slipped down his ribcage and to his hipbones, fingers sliding over the indenture of where hip met thigh. He felt blood rushing to his groin and he shifted to try to hide it from her. Her grin let him know he failed.

Castiel fought the urge to distract her. “Then I’m glad you trusted me again.”

Her shrug was casual enough. “What can I say? I’m a sucker for you angelic types, Clarence.”

He wanted to ask if she still thought he was a good man, after everything he had ever done in his life, but Meg lowered her head and began to run her mouth down his stomach, the quilt following her as she went. Her warm body slithered against his legs as she crouched between them and used her hand to begin to stroke him. Castiel closed his eyes and reached down to try to ease her firm grip, aware of how his body was responding so eagerly to her.

“Meg, what are you doing?” he asked.

“Isn’t it obvious?” she countered and he blushed.

“I thought you’d want to sleep…or I could go…or…we could…”

She shrugged. “I figured if we were going to spend the night in bed, might as well see what we’ve been missing for seven years.” Meg shoved his hand away and took him into her mouth before he could move.

She had never done this for him before, in all those years before, claiming to find the act too much like work. At the time, the distance she had needed between him and a john had been something Castiel had never considered. But when he managed to open his eyes again to see her relaxed and working him over so easily, Castiel thought she might actually be enjoying herself. He put his hand on the quilt to grip it tight and fought the need to grasp her hair, to thrust deeper into her mouth. Meg’s lips slid up and down him with wet suction and heat, and he knew he wouldn’t last long if this long tease continued.

When he let out a long, rattling groan, she lifted her lips from him with an audible pop and gave him a crooked smile when he managed to look at her again. “You can touch if you want to. I know the difference, Clarence,” she said softly before moving back to take him into her mouth once more. Her low moan made his cock vibrate and he bit back the urge to groan again.

Unable to resist her offer, he moved his hands to her hair and held her close to him. Soft wet sounds encompassed his focus as he tried to hold back, his hands tight in her hair as she wrapped a hand around his cock and began to stroke in time with the movement of her mouth. He had his eyes closed when she started to shift around again, getting on her knees, and when he felt smooth skin against his shoulder he opened his eyes to see she was lying beside him once more, her thighs against his shoulder. Meg removed her mouth once more and at his odd look she chuckled.

“I think you should return the favour,” she instructed.

“Not sure how.” He knew he was blushing again. “I mean, all that we did…it never really…came up.”

Meg ran her hand down his stomach and then back up again to touch his cheek. “Trust me, Clarence. I think you’ll do just fine.”

Encouraged, he latched his hands around her hips to pull her against his face. Her legs spread about his head until he pillowed his head against her thigh and kissed her intimately for the first time. The sounds they made were almost obscene beneath the low hum of music but his reservations were disappearing so that Castiel only ached for more as Meg increased the pressure of her mouth at the same time he pushed his tongue inside of her. He sighed into her wet skin and nipped at her thigh gently when it became too much to be held within her mouth without thrusting. Meg moaned around his cock and her hand stole down to his hair, tugging him back to her groin.

Realizing what she wanted, he began to tongue her harder and longer, until he felt her thighs quivering against his face. Her mouth left him again so she could moan louder and he arched his back, hips thrusting towards the hot depth of her lips. Meg returned to him, sucking harder and taking him deeper. Castiel nearly forgot to breathe as her taste overwhelmed him, and he pushed closer against her, mouth finding the spot that made her cry out around him. Feeling her clit throb against his tongue, he increased the pressure until Meg cried out once more, hips rocking furiously against his mouth. Castiel nearly thought he had control until her mouth closed around him and her lips vibrated from her cry, and that control slipped free. Forgetting restraint, he spurted into her mouth and his loud humming moan toppled Meg over the edge, her orgasm spiralling from his.

He forced his mouth away from her, taking in deep breaths as Meg trembled against him. When she finally turned around so that they were lying hip to hip, he saw the smug smirk on her lips and he knew he must have looked dazed. She crawled up his chest and kissed him so deeply that he was sure the taste of sex would forever be imprinted on his tongue. When Meg pulled back, he stared at her in some wonder.

“Easy, Clarence, you keep looking at me like that I’m gonna think you’re in love with me,” she teased.

He nearly answered that but Meg saved him from it by scooting back down in the bed to lie on her back beside him. Her skin glowed in the lamp light and she raised an arm above her head, unmindful of her nudity. She pulled the quilt over her breasts with her other hand and sighed.

Castiel rolled to his own back and stared at the ceiling. Aware of her watching him, he put his own arm back beneath his head. He couldn’t help it. He had to grin in pure satisfaction.

#

The sounds of dishes being clanged together woke Meg from her doze and she buried her face in the pillow when something metallic was clicked repeatedly against ceramic. She heard muttering, a soft cursing, and then the flare of the gas being ignited on her tiny stove tucked beside the window. Blindly, she reached out and pulled the quilt up over her shoulders against the chill in the air. Safe and snug, she cracked an eye open and saw Castiel’s blurry outline in her kitchenette. He was pouring something into a sauce pan on her stove, using a spoon to stir, and the domestic sight of him made her squint to try to see what he was doing. He had his back to her though and eventually she just closed her eyes again, drifting to sleep once more.

A tempting smell of cooking bacon wafted through the air and tickled her nose until her stomach growled in response and she had to move. Sitting up, she pulled the guilt under her arms and pushed her hair out of her face as she yawned. Castiel had pulled up her bistro table and she saw a cup of coffee steaming there.

“You’re awake,” he commented from the counter. Meg looked away from the tempting coffee to see her cat had come in again and was sitting waiting for Castiel to finish with the bacon.

“Are you cooking?” she asked, feeling stupid the minute she said it. He nodded and spooned a mountain of eggs and bacon onto two plates. “I didn’t know you could cook.”

“Dean taught me when he was tired of me starving or eating out. Said I had to be self-sufficient since he already had Sam to worry about,” Castiel explained. He put a tiny pile of leftover bacon on a saucer and set it before the cat. It growled at him but to Meg’s surprise he absently stroked its back until it started to grumble and eat anyway, purring a little instead of tackling Castiel’s vulnerable hand.

Satisfied he wasn’t about to be attacked, Castiel padded over to the tiny table and set the plates down. “You need to eat,” he prompted as he gestured at the two stools. Meg rose from the bed and looked at him as he turned away to set the still hot pan in the sink. His pants were sagging low around his hips and his undershirt clung to his body, revealing ropey muscles she had touched just hours before. He was completely unaware of his appeal to her and it made him all the more desirable for his ignorance.

She managed to close her mouth and gather her wits as he took a seat across from her. “You cooked for me,” she said as she stared at the eggs and bacon.

Castiel put a fork before her and shrugged. “You were sound asleep and I knew you hadn’t eaten.” He made sure to nudge her coffee cup close and picked up his own. “You didn’t have much food in your cupboards.”

“I don’t really cook,” she muttered as she took a forkful of egg to her mouth. She almost moaned in relief at the taste and her stomach did a flip of delight. She must have been more hungry than she thought. Castiel watched her suck on the fork, eyes wide, and she stared back as she took it from her mouth. “What?”

“Nothing,” he said, looking down. “I just thought it would be nice for you to have breakfast. It is still early.”

Meg looked over at the wall clock. It was early like he said. “Not like I have much planned for today. Mostly just sleep.” Castiel nodded and she swirled a bit of egg around on her place. “What about you?”

“Work. I have to finish several things for my family,” he said before he devoured a slice of crisp bacon. The tension between them was so thick that Meg found her stomach rebelling and refusing another bite. As if he knew, Castiel looked up at her over the rim of his coffee cup. “You…you have time off?”

“Just a couple of days. Then almost a straight run until after Christmas.” She shrugged. “That’s the breaks.”

“You only sleep on your days off?” he asked and Meg nodded. “I see.”

“I go out sometimes. Going out tonight even to Limbo,” she said when she saw the pity in his expression. “What do you care?”

His eyes widened a little. “I didn’t say anything.”

“Yeah well, you looked like you were about to.” She pushed her half-full plate away and grasped her mug. Meg looked away from him to where her cat was now cleaning himself on her couch. Castiel ate in silence until his plate was scraped clean and stood up to put the dishes in the sink. Feeling sulky and not sure why, Meg simply finished her coffee in silence, aware of the ache in her muscles. Her bed was still messy and her clothes were scattered across the floor. But she was in no mood to do more than crawl back into bed for a few more hours and his continuing presence was a harsh reminder of what she had tried hard to avoid.

He washed his hands and went for his shirt and coat while Meg closed her eyes as she propped her chin on her hand and leaned back in her narrow seat. Her headache had returned and knowing this awkward morning after might last too long was making it throb painfully.

“I have to go,” Castiel said and Meg removed her hand from her face to look at him. He was smoothing his coat sleeves and fixing his collar with meticulous care.

“Been fun,” she said with just the right amount of flippancy. Castiel stared hard at her until she had to look away again, aware of his quiet approach. He laid his hand over hers and crouched in front of her, his head tilted and gaze intense and warm.

Whatever he saw in her made him smile a little and stand up, his hand slipping up her neck until he cupped her cheek.

“Sleep tight.”

Meg forced herself not to turn to watch him as he left her apartment as quietly as they had first come in.

 


	22. Hey Baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the bar, Castiel and the Winchesters are soon joined by Meg and Benny on a rare night out. It is how the night turns out that gives Castiel hope that things might be going his way finally.

“Surprised you called us,” Dean said as he slid into the seat across from Castiel, Sam crowding in between them on a stool. “You’ve been kind of anti-social lately.”

“I can’t call my friends?” Castiel asked with an assumed innocence that immediately was a red-flag to the Winchesters. Dean squinted at him and Sam sucked down a hefty portion of beer while his own eyes fixed on him. Castiel smiled nervously. “What?”

“Don’t ‘what’ me. You’re up to something,” Dean pointed out. “I know you.”

“I just needed to get away from the books and typewriters for a while. Figure things out over some drinks. Is that illegal?” he demanded.

Sam raised his eyes to the ceiling. “Cass, come on.”

“Just drinks.”

“I heard Limbo was gonna be closed down for a few days for violating some liquor laws,” Dean observed. “We get caught here, we’ll need your daddy to bail us out.”

The sarcasm in his voice went over Castiel’s head as he looked around. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind. Ms. Knight I hear has some insight with the police.”

“Bobby doesn’t like her,” Sam put in.

“Bobby doesn’t like anyone from this side of town,” Castiel corrected. “Can’t a man want to drink with his friends?”

“They can. But you’re not like other men,” Dean said.

Castiel beamed at him. “Why thank you, Dean.”

The other man flushed. “That’s not what I meant.”

Sam was looking at Castiel skeptically. “You’ve done something. You’re more…less…tense.”

A crowd of people came through the door and Dean glanced over at them

“I simply came to a decision. That’s all. One I’m happy about,” Castiel explained.

“Really?” Dean asked. “That decision wouldn’t be about five-two, would it?”

Sam looked as well, snorted and shook his head, before going to finish his beer. Castiel turned his head to see Meg coming through the door with Benny at her side. The big man had his arm slung around her shoulders but knowing what he did now, Castiel didn’t feel much antagonism towards him.

If anything, he managed to grin and shrug as he turned toward his friends. “I didn’t realize Meg would be here.”

Dean pinned him with an unimpressed stare. “Uh huh.”

Castiel gave him a wide-eyed smile. “Why would it matter to me?”

Sam put his bottle down and licked his lips. With a cynical grin, he reached out and pulled Castiel’s collar down just enough to expose a purple-blossom bruise just above his collarbone. “Why eh?”

He pulled his shirt back up and sheepishly leaned away from Sam. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Dean rolled his eyes and watched as Benny escorted Meg around the dance floor. Like the group at the table, they were older than the twenty-somethings that decorated the bar these days but they stood out more because of the sultriness of Meg’s hip-swinging walk and Benny’s commanding presence. They stopped at the bar and Dean eyed them while Castiel turned as well.

“Benny says they aren’t together,” Sam commented and Dean went red.

“I wasn’t thinking that,” he muttered, watching as Meg headed for the jukebox while Benny stayed at the bar. “Cass is the one who is worried. Talk to him.”

Castiel looked at them both. “I thought you had a problem with my interest in Meg.”

“We do but things are a little different now. You’re not walking around with a rusted halo as much anymore,” Sam said before turning to his brother. “And Benny can handle himself.”

“I worry about Benny, that’s all. This town…might not be safe for him if he’s looking for trouble. People don’t like outsiders.”

Sam nodded. “He’s been warned a few times, he told me. People think he is up to no good, hanging around like this. His views on that what happened in Korea don’t help.”

“Isn’t right. Man hurt no one,” Dean muttered. He pushed back from the table. “I’m gonna get another round. You guys want anything?”

Sam was leaning around, looking at the dance floor. He caught sight of a pretty brunette girl sitting by herself and he grinned. “I’ll be back too.”

“I thought we were having drinks,” Castiel protested as both men left him. They waved him off and headed in opposite directions. Annoyed that his bad attempt at planning this had gone haywire, Castiel grasped his glass of bourbon and stood up from the table. He bypassed the growing crowd. He didn’t really fit in, not with his rumpled suit, and most of the men were in denims and t-shirts. Even Meg didn’t fit in exactly and he took some comfort from that.

Sidling up to her beside the jukebox, Castiel set his glass down on the nearest table and watched the seductive sway of her hips as she searched the music listings. She was biting her lower lip as she did it, her loose hair hiding one eye in a tousled fashion, and her skirt ruffled a little in the cool draft coming from outside. Castiel had to smile as she groaned as a pop record finally wound down and he watched her scowl in disappointment when she didn’t find what she was looking for. When she sighed as if her world was ending, he leaned close and spoke low.

“Nothing good?” he asked over her shoulder.

Meg turned her head quickly but relaxed when she saw it was him. “Lot of pop nonsense,” she commented. “Kids these days, you know.”

“You’re not that much older,” he said with a smile and Meg rolled her eyes.

“I am too but at least I have taste.” She popped a couple of coins in the juke and glanced at him as she ran her finger over the buttons. “I didn’t expect to see you today.”

“Why not?” he asked.

“Well. Let’s just say I still don’t live with high expectations about people in general,” she explained and Castiel shrugged.

“That makes me think you do have some sort of expectations about me,” he commented and she scowled. “I wonder what they are.”

“Don’t be cute. You here with the Winchester boys?”

“Dean and Sam wanted to come for drinks. I suggested this place.” She shot him a look and he made a show of studying the juke box. “Sam’s worried Dean is drinking too much again but at least with both of us he keeps it to a minimum.”

“And you just happen to be at the same place I’m at, the night after we fucked for the first time in seven years?” she asked, her voice a little too loud. Castiel glanced over his shoulder but no one was paying attention to them. Meg had one eyebrow arched when he turned around and she scoffed. “Don’t worry. Sure your reputation is safe these days.”

He watched her as she savagely clicked two buttons. “Does it bother you?”

Meg frowned. “What? No.”

“You seem to be upset that I might care what others think of me being around you,” Castiel continued. They watched as the record was picked up and rolled to the player.

“Last time you were, you took off for parts unknown,” Meg said. “Without looking back once.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “You left before, when the blackmail came out. I didn’t think you would care.”

“I don’t care,” she snapped. “I was just stating a fact.”

“Of course.” He smiled as she turned away from him as the previous song ended, the record flipping over with a loud click and a hum starting from the speakers. Meg pushed away from the juke and tried to evade his hand but still he caught hers. Castiel wove his fingers through hers, secretly glad for the intimacy, and drew her close until she was settled beneath his arm. Meg stiffened and twisted against him, fingers pressing against his ribcage.

“What are you doing?”

“No point wasting the music,” he pointed out. “And Benny is busy with Dean.”

He nodded and she looked at where Dean and Benny were deep in conversation. Close by, Sam was staring at the dark haired girl and watched her use her hands as she spoke. Meg turned with a frown and tried to dislodge the arm around her shoulder.

“You don’t dance,” she said.

“Not at all,” he agreed as he dropped his arm about her hips and brought the other up to to his chest until their pressed palms rested there. Meg frowned up at him. “I’m willing to at least try so you don’t look so foolish standing alone on a dance floor.”

Meg scowled harder. “You’re an asshole.”

“I’ve heard that before,” he admitted as he tried to sway with her. Around them, the crowd gyrating and bouncing around despite the slowness of the song and the awkwardness of their swaying was ignored as the others spun around and around. Meg squirmed against him.

“God, you have no sense of rhythm,” she muttered and the hand she had free she slipped around his waist and drew him in indecently close. Castiel chortled in surprise as he pressed his full length against her. Meg guided him in a slow two-step that took very little co-ordination and carried them deeper into the crowd on the floor, until they were surrounded. It was a warm area to be in, suffocating to be among so many people, and Castiel felt a nervous sweat gather on his skin at her closeness when she stepped into his body.

Meg’s head tilted forward, until the top of her head was just beneath his chin, and he splayed his hand along the small of her back to pull her even closer. The hand he held within his turned until her palm pressed flat over his chest to feel his heartbeat and he heard her sigh.

“You make it hard to stay away,” she muttered and he smiled against the crown of her hair. “Why are you so sweet on me still?”

“I still don’t know. But I was just thinking the same thing,” he said, barely able to be heard under the heavy throb of music. He lifted his chin and lowered his head a little so she could hear him. “Is it so bad?”

Her eyes opened and flicked up to him. “You have no idea.”

Confused, he stared at her and wondered what she meant. Meg’s gaze dropped to his mouth and his did the same before dragging reluctantly back to to her eyes. He tightened his grip and pulled her even closer as her head turned on his shoulder so that he could feel her breath on his cheek. Smelling of jasmine perfume and mint powder, the familiar mixture was oddly intoxicating and he started to close his eyes as he lowered his mouth towards hers. His hand slid up her back to cup her by the back of her head and Meg leaned into him until he took most of her weight and let her rest against him. She rocked up on the tip of her toes and he felt her lips just brush his, an exhale of warm breath caressing his face.

“Get the fuck out of my face!” Dean’s loud voice broke the hypnotic spell of the music and Castiel lifted his head away, aware of Meg’s disappointed sigh. Blinking away the haze in his eyes, Castiel turned to see that Dean was cornered by two small men who were shoving at him. Another was tussling with Benny already while Sam had jumped from his seat to help them. Castiel sighed and gave Meg’s hand a gentle squeeze before pushing her away.

Approaching the group, he ducked a wild swing and put himself between Dean and one of the burly little men. “Is there a problem?” he asked. The smaller man, greased hair slicked back from his face, snarled up at him.

“Your friend here got in the way. Then he insulted my friend,” he said and Castiel looked at Dean. Benny and Sam were faced off and Sam was approaching with cold calculation. It was about to explode and Castiel knew he likely couldn’t defuse this.

“Dean?” Castiel asked as he let the man go and set about rolling up his sleeves a little. “Did you want my help?”

“Back off, buddy, and go back to your little girl in the corner,” the man grumbled.

Castiel glanced and saw that Meg was picking up her coat from the table. Torn as he was, he wasn’t about to leave his friends. He caught her eye and she made a tiny gesture with her hand, as if waving him on, and headed for the door.

Sighing and knowing he was stuck, Castiel looked back at Dean and Sam, both who nodded.

Dean grinned. “Now it’s a party.”

Castiel sighed again but tried not to grin himself as he cracked his fist across the sturdy jaw of the man he’d held back.

#

His ears still rung from the loud, boisterous laughing of the men who had just exited his pickup truck. Dean and Sam had slung Benny up between them as he sang their praises in drunken song, his rich accent practically purring their names. He tugged them close around the necks and continued his loud rhyming. They were all a mess of bruises and split lips but they were happy. Castiel shook his head and pulled into the street, watching as the Winchesters made their way into Bobby’s. The older man was in the doorway, rolling his chair back and forth impatiently, and Castiel gave him a wave. Bobby looked irritated but he’d take care of them.

Castiel had half a mind on the men he had left and half on where he was headed down the side streets. Still it was a surprise when he pulled up outside of the psychic shop and its beaded windows. He shifted into park and left with a groan as he stretched his legs. Meg’s upstairs windows were dark and he heard loud rock music coming from Pam’s second level rooms. Judging by the raucous laughter, the landlady wasn’t alone either. He leaned against his truck bed and stared down the street.

Coming around with her head down and digging in her purse for her keys, dressed in her rose coat Meg fit in with the eccentric neighbourhood perfectly. Castiel shoved his hands in his pockets and cleared his throat when she approached. She twisted, key stuck between her fingers, and readied her hand to jab up. When she realized who it was, she put her hand down and jangled her keys together.

“What are you doing here?”

He nodded to her building. “I wanted to be sure you got home safe.”

“Since when do I need protecting?” she asked as she passed him. Castiel jingled his own keys in his pocket as he followed her along the walk towards the gate.

“I figured it wouldn’t hurt.”

Meg cast a cynical eye over him. “Judging by that split lip, you needed protecting yourself.”

Castiel reached up to touch the tiny cut and he shrugged. “It doesn’t hurt much. You didn’t have to leave you know. I was hoping we could finish our dance but that fight….”

“Like I wanted to see you get your butt kicked,” she threw over her shoulder as she unlocked the metal gate leading to the stairs. “If I wanted to see that, I’d do it myself.”

He resisted the urge to smile at the imagery when she stumbled in her high heels.

“Besides, we weren’t really dancing, Cass. You were swaying and I was letting you pretend you could dance,” she grumbled as she turned around, wrapping an arm across her middle to keep her coat closed tight.

“All the same, I’d hoped we could talk.”

She raised a brow. “You and I aren’t so good at talking.” Her grin was slow and seductive. “As I remember it?” She stepped forward until she was so close he could feel her warmth and he swallowed nervously as she reached out to stroke her hand down his chest. Biting into her lip, he watched her hand for a moment before looking up at him through sooty lashes. “You are much better at not talking.”

Though it cost him, he removed her hand from his chest and stepped back. “I didn’t come here for that.”

Her eyes flashed a little but he couldn’t guess what she was thinking. “Well, I’m here safe and sound. See ya later, Clarence.”

He put his hand on the gate and closed it before she could go through. “We should have talked last night and this morning. But we were a little distracted.”

“A little distracted? We were _very_ distracted. A few times. I’d say that’s more than just a little.”

“Meg, don’t be difficult.” He frowned as she tugged ineffectively at the gate. “I needed to let you know that it wasn’t just the sex I wanted from you.”

“Used to be what you wanted,” Meg pointed out and she leaned against the brick wall.

“What I wanted seven years ago was to be a reverend. I was content to just settle in that life. Not happy but I could have settled. Maybe had a family, friends, a career.”

“What a shame,” she sneered and he put a hand on the top of the gate and leaned over her. Meg rolled her eyes and looked up at him. “What does that have to do with me?”

“Once I met you, I wanted more than all of that. Wanted more than what was expected of me.” He frowned, genuinely troubled at being so truthful. “And I think you felt the same.”

“Don’t put words in my mouth,” she warned but she didn’t look at him this time. Instead, she looked ready to bolt up the stairs if he let her. “It wasn’t a great life but it was my life. You had nothing to do with it.”

“Maybe.”

He could have sworn he heard Meg’s teeth grind together. “What’s your point, Clarence? You blame me that you’re not living the apple pie life? Winchesters have been feeding you some lines, I bet.”

“No.”

“Then what do you want?”

“Maybe to see if we could be more than just…what we were doing seven years ago.”

She stared. “You mean go steady? Drive-ins and diners? Holding hands and reading poetry?”

“Yes, I think that’s what I mean.”

Meg sneered again. “Don’t think that’s for a girl like me.” She ducked under his arm and opened the gate.

“How do you know if you haven’t tried yet?” he asked and she stopped short. Castiel followed her through the gate and to the first step. “I admit, I’m not good with women. Or people in general. And I happen to know that you’re pretty horrible with everyone in general, especially people that rub you the wrong way.”

She scowled at him but didn’t argue.

“But we could try together.”

Meg was clearly thinking it over as she seemed to look everywhere but at him. “I think this won’t work,” she pointed out.

“Is that a no?”

She lifted a shoulder in a careless gesture. “Let me think about it.”

Castiel nodded. “That’s all I ask,” he said and he turned away.

Meg cleared her throat. “Look, did you want to come up or something? Pam’s entertaining, won’t be around.”

“I thought you had to work in the morning,” Castiel said as he turned around. Meg had stepped onto the first step and was looking vaguely imperious. He dragged his eyes away from her tight skirt and flashes of slim legs to see her grinning deviously.

“I do. At six.”

Putting his keys back in his pocket, he came back within the gate and let it bang behind him. Meg didn’t move as he approached, just flicked her eyes flirtatiously over him before looking into his face. Shrouded in darkness, Castiel felt like his world stopped when she looked at him like that.

“If I come in, I’m not so sure that we’ll talk.”

Meg’s hand came to rest on his chest, snaking into his coat to grasp his tie. She tugged him forward until he stumbled into her, hands going to her waist and gripping her tight. She stared up at him and chuckled at his worried expression.

“Oh, I’m counting on that.”

#

Meg had never prayed before. But she was seriously considering it now.

She was naked and splayed on her bed with only a little bit of light glimmering in the room to let her see what was happening when she found the will to open her eyes. Hands thrown over her head to clutch the sheets, biting into the inside of her own upper arm to stave off the loud moans she wanted to give, while her heels dug into Castiel’s back as she looped her legs over his shoulders; she was likely a sight to make a saint faint. She sank her teeth in sharp against her skin when he hit a sensitive spot that made her world spin.

The moment they had entered her apartment, it had become clear that they weren’t going to talk. Castiel had stripped her of her clinging dress and underclothes and put her on the bed with an odd gentleness. He hadn’t even bothered to undress; instead he had rolled up his sleeves to his elbows, dropped his coat and jacket onto the couch, and pulled her hips to hang over the edge of the mattress. When she’d been positioned how he wanted her, he had simply knelt between her legs and proceeded to prove to her that he wasn’t as naive as he often appeared.

It was long slow kisses between her legs, as if he was savouring every inch he tasted, and Meg found her world spiralling out and then back in with rushes from the heat that rolled in her belly and spread through her groin. He more than made up for his lack of experience with a natural talent that made her moan in almost endless pitches of breathy cries and load moans.

“Oh, god,” she groaned when he moved his mouth to the soft flesh of her inner thigh to nip. His stubble raked over her skin but the rasp if only heightened how sensitive she was when he came back to lick at her again. He laid the flat of his tongue against her and she arched her back, legs snapping together against his ears when he hit a sensitive spot. Castiel muttered something against her and his hands came up to clamp over her thighs, pushing them apart.

“Hold still,” he ordered.

“Can’t, uh, handle it when I move?” she managed and he shook his head.

“I’m new at this. You’re distracting me.” His eyes darted over the flat of her belly and he actually looked so serious that she nearly dissolved into giggles. “Stop that.”

She snorted and turned her head against her arm to try to stop.

Castiel resumed muttering to himself as he held her down and returned his mouth to his work. Meg nearly bucked as he delved deeper and longer against her, until she was throbbing against his tongue and so close to a powerful orgasm that she began to make those breathless whimpers that she hadn’t made in a very long time. When he held his mouth against her and made a low humming sound that sounded like a moan of pleasure, she arched her back and rocked forward to clutch his head between her hands.

“Oh…” she made a soft mewling sound, “Cass.”

Her fingers tugged hard on his hair as he pressed his tongue against her and she made another pained sound. His mouth lifted from her and he stared up at her, tongue flicking across his lips. He almost looked worried.

“Something wrong?”

“Oh god I hate you,” she said, flopping back on the bed and closing her eyes as her body throbbed and ached with denied pleasure.

“No you don’t,” he answered. “Am I doing this wrong?”

Meg pressed the flat of her palm to her eyes and twitched a little, hips rolling. She could feel him looking her over with worry, trying to figure it out. Her own experiences like this were few and far between - what john would try? - but she knew what she wanted and she wasn’t about to let him stop now.

“Meg?”

She rolled to her knees and grabbed him by the collar, hauling him up the bed with surprising strength. He tried to kiss her but she shoved him onto his back, his head banging the headboard as he grunted and stared up at her in confusion. Meg straddled his chest and took his hair in her hand as she gripped the headboard with the other. She rolled her hips a little and started to shift up his chest towards his face.

“Oh,” he muttered, figuring it out, and he gripped her thighs in his hands, pulling her forward. Meg came almost instantly the moment his tongue touched her clit and she cried out, shaking on his mouth and losing her grip on the headboard. That heat that had pooled in her body exploded through her and she felt every tense muscle release in rolling contractions that exhausted her. Her intention to stay upright was gone and she sagged forward and slid off him, too sensitive to let his mouth stay against her clit.

Castiel turned with her and reached out to draw her close against his chest, mouth still slick and hot against the back of her neck. Meg still rolled her hips a little, tiny moans coming from her as her body throbbed but began to fall back to a sated state. She felt the press of his shirt buttons against her spine as he pulled her tight against him and his hand slid from her hip to between her legs. His fingers slid against her despite her squirming and when his thumb brushed against her clit she cried out and pushed against his hand.

“Oh…god…god please,” she groaned. His teeth nipped at her neck at the same time he ground his palm into her. That fall she’d experienced became a climb once again and the harder she writhed against his hand the faster she climbed. She felt Castiel’s breath on the back of her neck, felt hardness against the small of her back as she rubbed backward against him, but the only thing she could think to do was to never stop moving. His legs tangled in hers when she tried to close her thighs together again, to stop for just a moment, and held them apart as his thumb did a light circle. That tiny contact was enough to send her bucking against his hand, head thrown back against his shoulder as he held her tight.

“Oh…fuck, Cass,” Meg cried in a low voice, unable to catch her breath to shout as she spasmed around his fingers.

“Good girl.” She felt his breath chuckle against her neck and he held her steady as he moved his fingers in playful circles and strokes, until she had to reach down finally to stop him. Everything between her legs felt too sensitive and she was sure if he touched her again she’d scream.

Castiel murmured against her neck and kissed her shoulder, hand now stroking her stomach in soothing circles.

“You…”

“I didn’t expect any of that,” he said with too much calm. “But I enjoyed it.”

“Yeah…” Meg closed her eyes and hummed, breath hitching a little as an aftershock rolled through her. Castiel chuckled again.

“You enjoyed it, I see.”

She opened her eyes and turned her head to glare at him. “No one likes a gloater, Clarence.” That devious hand of his slipped down her waist and she clasped his wrist immediately to bring that mission to a halt. “Not yet. Just…let me come down first.”

“I liked hearing you say my name like that,” he said as he propped up on an elbow and looked down at her.

“Like what?”

His gaze roamed down her naked body. “Like I was the only thing you wanted.”

Meg groaned. “The poetry, Clarence, really?”

“Yes, I remember.” He turned her chin toward him, fingers slipping down her throat in an absent minded caress. Meg stared at him, wondering what it was he was looking at. He suddenly seemed nervous of her in the way he refused to look her in the eye. Frowning, she put her hand on the back of his head and started to pull him over her shoulder for a kiss.

The loud bang of a backfiring truck in the alley beside her apartment ricocheted through the small room and Meg jumped as Castiel’s arms contracted almost violently around her. He pulled her around and into him so tight that she had to squirm to keep from snapping her wrist between them. His clothing scratched at her naked skin and his expression was wild, his mouth slack and half open as he stared at the wall. Through his clothes, Meg felt the sweat on his skin and the clamminess of his hands as they grasped her body. His erection was gone, the desire in him evaporated, and he seemed utterly lost. The tight hold on her was vaguely threatening but absent. She’d been through worse before and it was the only reason why she didn’t panic.

“Hey,” Meg muttered and she leaned forward so that they were nose to nose. “Look at me.”

His eyes were glazing over, lost in memory of something she knew she didn’t understand. Meg licked her lips and cocked her head on the side as she shifted against his hold, until her legs were wrapping around his. His breathing was becoming shallow and fast and she could feel his heart racing. He was trying hard to breathe and failing as anxiety tore into him.

“Come on back, Clarence,” she said. “Just breathe for me.”

She wasn’t used to being patient with anyone but she struggled to make it work for him. Meg had done her reading, had seen this before, with him and with patients, and she knew better than to push. She simply let him hold her like he needed, watching as his breathing evened out as the nightmare he’d regressed to began to fade a little.

“Okay if I just…touch you?” she asked. He nodded after a long pause, grimacing as he realized how tight he held her. When he blinked away the daze, she pulled her wrist from his grip and touched his cheek.

“Welcome back.” Her thumb traced over his mouth. “Still getting those, huh? Wanna talk about it?” He shook his head and she nodded. “You don’t have to. Books I read says it helps though, to talk.”

Castiel sucked in hard and then sighed, laying his head on the pillow facing her. “My unit…we were stuck…Alfie was trying to get to us…I saw his head…” He squeezed his eyes shut and Meg frowned. “His…head…”

There was something so heartbreaking about this grown man crumpling at a distant memory that even as jaded as she was Meg felt for him. His face, once so eager for sex and lighter-hearted conversation, was ashen and his eyes shone with wary exhaustion. He removed her hand from his face and rolled to his other side.

“I just need to sleep,” he muttered. Meg stared at his broad shoulders for a while, debating on her next move, and then scooted to the end of the bed. She grasped him by the ankle. He rolled a little at her movement, looking so worried that she grinned.

“You might need to sleep but I don’t want shoes in my bed,” she said practically. He stared at her rather stupidly as she unlaced his dress shoes and let them fall with a clunk before stripping off his socks. Grabbing the quilt, she tossed it over him and as she went to move away to the couch he took her wrist.

“Please?” he asked. “I know you still don’t like it but…”

“It would help,” she finished for him. She rubbed at her neck and looked at her lumpy couch. “I do need some sleep.”

“If you don’t want…”

“Times are different now, Clarence, I don’t mind. Besides, it’s my bed. Shove over.”

His arm lifted and she found herself tucked against him before she could protest how quickly he pulled her down beneath the quilt with him. It felt odd, being naked against his clothed body. She could feel the shirt buttons digging into her spine again and the cold metal of his belt buckle grinding into the small of her back whenever he tried to get comfortable. Despite the discomfort, she kept quiet as he wrapped his arms around her and embraced her with a tightness that made it clear he thought she might disappear. His mouth just grazed the back of her head and she could feel his hurried breathing starting to even out into long, slow inhales and deep exhales. His heart stopped racing and eventually the arms around her relaxed.

“Thank you,” he muttered and then in the next instance she heard a deep rumbling snore start. His episode had drained him, she could feel it in the way his hands stayed still but his body went lax.

Meg sighed and patted the arm around her middle. “Don’t mention it, Clarence.”

#

The low purr and weight on his chest warned Castiel in advance that he wasn’t alone. Cracking an eye open, he stared into Steve’s good one and the cat let out a warning rumble. The tattered ears flattened as it hissed and Castiel swallowed, aware of how vulnerable his throat was. Then, for some odd reason, the cat made a faint chirping sound, fluffed up its stubby tail, and flounced off to the end of the bed to clean itself.

Shaking his head, Castiel sat up and groaned as his head swam. He should be used to this after how many years, the aching sensation in his temples and the cotton-mouthed grogginess, but he still winced and put a hand to his eyes. There was no sound in the apartment and he realized it with slow dread.

She’d left him.

Running his other hand across the bed sheet where Meg must have lain, he found the linen cold and the pillow barely dented. Even her scent was gone. Everything about Meg had seemed to have disappeared. An unavoidable sense of loss sucked Castiel towards that anxiety he had barely managed to tamper before and he rolled to the side to plant his feet flat on the floor, needing some stability. The air in the apartment was chilly and if it wasn’t for his rumpled clothing he might have shivered.

Castiel lowered his head and took deep breaths to calm himself down. It wasn’t so bad, he reminded himself, Meg had never liked being around whenever he woke up before. Maybe…

A ruffling sound caught his attention and he looked to the right to see a piece of paper on the night stand, weighted down by a key and a glass of water. Ignoring the look that the cat was giving him, he gulped down the water first until his mouth no longer felt full of sourness and then reached for the paper. He read it with dread that slowly left him as he realized what Meg was really saying,

“ _Clarence, had to go into work. Didn’t want to wake you. Here’s my spare key. Don’t forget to lock up. I’m on 12 hour shifts for the week so I won’t be around much. Meg.”_

It was a sparse message but as Castiel picked up the key and turned it over in his palm, he guessed what might be hiding within her words. He stared at the key a long time, until the cat grumbled and jumped to the counter and began to bat around its saucer. As he stood to feed the cat, still palming the key over and over again, he decided maybe he was right. Maybe what he wanted from Meg was more than just nights together if having this key meant something.

 


	23. I only have eyes for you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While negotiating an uneasy truce with Meg's cat, Castiel manages to declare his intentions.

“What’s eating you?” Bobby asked as he kinged Castiel’s piece and then took a slug of beer. “I only needed you for a few hours to help around the yard so you didn’t have to stay. Thought you’d say no but you took right to it. Might be mechanical hope for you yet.”

Castiel shrugged. “I learned from Dean. But I haven’t seen him in the past couple of days.”

“He was supposed to go up north again. Had an assignment for him helping out some farmers getting squeezed by some government operation.” Bobby set his bottle down. “Something about commie insight. Who knows. Government says a lot of crap.”

Frowning, Castiel moved his piece to jump over Bobby’s. “Dean didn’t tell me he was being sent out.”

“Some missions he just likes him and Sam, you know that,” Bobby explained and he frowned at the lack of moves he’d be able to make. “How’d you do that?”

Castiel shrugged and leaned back in his seat. Absently, he put his hand in his pocket and jangled his keys though his fingers caught on the only one not on the ring. He was aware of Bobby staring at him and he sheepishly gestured at the board. “Your move.”

“Not until you tell me why you showed up out of nowhere. Not that I mind the company, but you and me aren’t best of pals, you know. You should be hanging around men your own age.” Bobby ran a checker piece through his fingers. “Not that you have many friends.”

Castiel flinched a little but that comment was honest and not meaning to be cruel. “I suppose I was just needing company.”

“What about that girl you were seen with? Meg?” At Castiel’s startled look, he picked up his bottle again. “I got eyes all over town you know.”

“I wouldn’t know where to start.”

“I remember that ending badly last time, you know. The blackmail and stuff. Your Daddy might not be thrilled at the idea of you two again since he worked so hard to cover it up.” Bobby frowned. “She only came back recently herself.”

“Meg’s working at the hospital as a nurse.”

That startled the older man into choking on his beer. “Say again?”

Reluctantly, Castiel began to tell in sparse detail what had happened with Meg. Bobby barely showed any reaction except to raise his eyebrows and sip his beer. As he slowly grew more comfortable with his story, the more detailed Castiel became into his own confusion about Meg and how to handle what he wanted. That earned him a wry look and slight smile.

“You still aren’t good with women, Cass. I used to see how Hannah looked at you, before she went back to her husband, but you? You were oblivious. For some reason, women like you.” Bobby rolled his bottle between his fingers. “Meg might be a harder sell though.” He looked at Castiel with an oddly paternal smile. “You sure you aren’t just using her to escape how your life might end up if you keep going the way you are? Following the boys around like a lost puppy?”

The glare he was shot made Bobby snort. “Guess not.”

“I can’t explain it. I don’t know why I’m so…sweet on her, to use Meg’s words. But I am. I…I like her.”

“Uh huh.” Bobby frowned and finally made a move on the board with a triumphant chuckle. Castiel stared at him. “Only advice I can give you is to be kind to her. Girl like that, she doesn’t need the poetry and courtship stuff we used to do in my day.”

“Be kind,” Castiel repeated. “It really isn’t like me, I think.”

“You’re a good man, Cass, even with the stick up your ass. Normally I’d say just talk to Dean but he’d give you some bad advice that would have her kicking you out fast. No, I think you’re doing fine on your own. It’s not as complicated as you’re making it.”

“So you think if I just…”

Bobby sighed hard to show his exasperation. “You handle this your way. Just remember last time when you were ashamed of her and what she was. You can’t erase the past and you have to understand her family was on the rough side of the law for a long time. You two are from different worlds. I’m surprised that righteous side to you that made you be a reverend for a few years isn’t bucking to get away.”

“So am I.” Castiel contemplated the board. “Why aren’t you as against this as Dean?”

“Dean tends to hold on too hard to his friends and family. Bad as that girl was in her day, I’ve no right to interfere. Takes a big man, Cass, to see something of worth beneath it all.”

“Thank you.” Castiel suddenly grinned. “And I’m sorry for this.”

When Castiel jumped four pieces in a row, Bobby promptly gave up on ever beating him at checkers.

#

The last shift hadn’t been twelve hours; it had been a gruelling sixteen thanks to two women not showing up and forcing Meg to be on the overnight shift. The Ward Nurse had had no real compunctions about keeping Meg from her home and by the time she left the hospital, Meg was ready to quit it all. She didn’t really enjoy this job though she had had some grand visions of it before, and hopping around from ward to ward for geriatric and psychiatric cases didn’t help her lack of patience with the hospital in general. If it wasn’t for a decent pay check every month, she’d have up and left. Since Meg felt that her only other option was to turn tricks, she was reluctant to follow through. She was too used to not fighting every day to live without being assaulted.

The staircase leading to her apartment made Meg groan and remove her shoes to relieve her aching feet. She made it to the first landing when the door swung open violently and she was faced with Pam. The psychic was no longer in her stunning peasant blouse and hoop skirt costume but in tight jeans and a low slung to reveal her slim shoulders. She was putting in earrings and she gave Meg a once over.

“Rent’s due. First of the month,” she said. Meg made a face but dug through her bag for her money. Counting the bills, she handed it over and waited as Pam gave her a receipt in return. The psychic tucked the money into her top and crossed her arms over her chest as she leaned against the door. “So, been meaning to ask, who is the tall drink of water?”

“Who?”

“The cute thing with blue eyes. Looks like an accountant?”

Meg blinked. Her days had been so full she really hadn’t had time to think about Castiel lately. “You mean Cass?”

“Must be, he came out of your room early a few mornings ago after you left.” Pam ran her tongue across her lips and her expression was hard to read. “We had an agreement. No men, remember?”

“Come on, Pam, you can’t expect me to never have a man around. I mean, you’ve been entertaining often enough,” Meg said.

Pam squinted at her. “Fine. I get you. But first sign of trouble and his ass is out, you got me? And he better not be living up there with you. I’m only renting to one person.”

Meg nodded. “Got you. I’ll keep the screaming for more to a minimum,” she deadpanned.

Pam’s grin was slow. “That good, huh?” she asked.

“Have no complaints,” Meg answered with a casual shrug as she moved to go back upstairs. Pam leaned out of her doorway and called up after her,

“If he knows anyone like him, let me know!”

The moment she was in her apartment, Meg flung her bag onto the couch with her shoes and headed for the kitchen. She stuck her nose in the fridge and frowned. Right. Groceries. That could be tomorrow’s problem. She was off for a few days before the long run to the holidays and she needed to enjoy it if she could. Meg unbuttoned her shirtdress and stripped to her underclothes, leaving her dress on the floor as she headed for her bed. Cuddled in her armchair, Steve looked up long enough to give her a grumbling purr before curling back into a massive black ball of fur.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll feed you later,” she muttered as she pulled the quilt up over her shoulders and laid her head on the pillow.

Meg was sure she’d only been asleep for an hour or so when she heard her door click shut. Head groggy and barely able to lift it from the pillow, she reached for her drawer with one hand for her dad’s old service pistol. Before she could grasp the cold handle, fingers wrapped around her wrist gently and lifted it away.

“Just me,” Castiel said and he put her hand on the bed. Meg rolled to her back and stared up at him through the darkness of the room. His hair was sprinkled with snow and he was shivering from the cold. Meg looked to the side to try to see her clock and he noticed. “It’s after nine.”

She sighed and flopped back down. “I only just got in.”

“I know, your landlady made sure I knew that,” he said. He touched her hairline and gently let his fingers follow the curve of her face in a soft caress. “I stopped by earlier last night but the hospital said you were put on overnights.”

“Yeah.” Meg rubbed at her face tiredly. “How’d you get in here?”

“You gave me a key, remember?”

“Oh, right.” She must have imagined it but he actually looked a little hurt that she hadn’t remembered. “Sorry, Clarence. Just feel like I’ve been run over by a bus.”

“I understand.”

“What are you doing here? Not really up for anything,” Meg asked as she tried to sit up against the headboard. He removed his hand and leaned back, looking at where Steve was still sound asleep in a rumbling ball.

“I thought you might like company,” he said. Almost reluctantly, his eyes came back to her. “And I wanted to be here.”

“Oh.” Meg frowned and before she could speak she yawned loudly. “Sorry to disappoint.”

“It is all right. I should have thought this through,” he admitted. “Get some sleep. I brought some work with me and when you feel ready, I’ll make you breakfast.”

Her eyes almost lit up at the mention of food she didn’t have to cook. “Trying to win a girl’s heart, huh?”

His gaze was far more direct than before. “Is it working?”

Meg decided it was better not to answer and slid down the bed, closing her eyes and trying to at least fake fall asleep. Castiel made a sound that she didn’t know how to interpret and she felt a brush of lips touch her cheek before he stood from the bed. Aware of that gentle heat lingering on her skin, she strained to hear what he was doing but he was moving so quietly she couldn’t figure if he was even in the room with her. Maybe she had dreamed him.

“I just need to crash,” she muttered just before sleep stole over her once more.

#

It was less abrupt this time when she woke up and Meg yawned, scrubbing at her eyes and stretching her toes to the end of the bed. Her muscles felt deliciously lax and she wriggled in delight. When she rolled a little to the side, she bumped into a warm body and she rolled back to her stomach. Looking up through her hair, she saw Castiel sitting on the bed beside her, a pile of papers in his lap. He had a pen in his mouth and was reading a sheet, another pen in his other hand as he made marks. Meg reached out to touch his thigh and found him solid.

No dream then.

Castiel removed the pen from his mouth and stared at her. “You’re awake.”

“Barely. Did I sleep long?” she asked as she stretched once more.

He squinted at the clock. “Few hours. I was able to get the store and back and you hadn’t really moved.”

“These shifts are killing me,” she muttered before burying her face in her pillow and sighing. Castiel shifted a little beside her and she heard the papers being shuffled.

“Do you like what you’re doing?” he asked. “You could do something else if you don’t.”

“I don’t have anything else,” she grumbled, voice muffled by the pillow. “You know that.”

“There’s always something else. Which is something I am just learning myself,” he said, sounding puzzled. “These are out of order.”

Meg propped her head up and looked at him. “What are you even doing?” she asked, reaching out to take a page. The words were scribbles and barely legible.

“When Anna’s publisher saw her latest book and how it was edited, they gave me more work. Piece work but it pays.” He plucked the page from her hand and put it on the pile on his lap. “I might make it a career if I can. I enjoy fixing things.”

“Whatever floats your boat, Clarence.” Meg wiggled her toes and leaned her head on his thigh as she turned over on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. “You didn’t have to stay.”

“Maybe I wanted to.”

“Not buying it, people who do things for other people always want some sort of payback,” Meg grumbled.

He turned the page over and made a note before picking up a fresh piece. “I suppose I do have an ulterior motive. I wanted to ask you something.”

“So you’re buttering me up?”

“Perhaps. But first I promised you breakfast,” he said without looking away from the page, making a series of slashes. “Would you like it now?”

Her stomach rumbled impatiently at the prospect but Meg shook her head. “I need a bath. I smell like a hospital.”

He nodded but didn’t look up from his work. Meg debated on snatching the page from him but decided on a less invasive course of action. She stood from the bed and stretched again before heading to the tiny bathroom. Once the hot water was running, a blessing since Pam usually used all of it, she propped the door half open and began to remove her underclothes. She heard the rustle of paper and smiled to herself as she unhooked her stockings and bent to roll them down her legs. When she glanced over her shoulder, Castiel was staring at her.

With a wicked grin, she used her hip to check the door closed.

Castiel sighed and shook his head. She was teasing him and he supposed that wasn’t a bad thing. He had been surprised how easily she’d allowed him into the apartment considering he hadn’t asked. Perhaps Meg had expected him. She had left the key, after all.

He waited until there was a splash of water before he put his work onto the nightstand and stood up, rolling up his sleeves as he did so. While Meg had slept, he had snuck down to the closest shop and picked up groceries for her. Luckily both Dean and Sam had once decided to teach him to at least make a decent meal and he was enjoying the opportunity to try again. The cat jumped on the counter to watch him and Castiel turned after he laid bacon on the pan.

“If I feed you, will you bite me?” he asked as he came close and offered a bit of bacon rind left over. The cat hissed, snatched the piece from him, and tottered out the window with a loud meow. Castiel sighed. “You remind me of her.”

He set about cooking a large enough breakfast for them and set the table. The sounds in the bathroom had quieted and as he put the stack of pancakes and the bowl of eggs to one corner of the counter, he called Meg’s name. When she didn’t answer, he removed the kettle from the stove and headed to the bathroom.

She was asleep in the tub, head lolled against the cracked tile. Castiel looked down at her and waited, taking in the sight of her body barely covered by cooling water. The cold draft woke her and she jerked, hands coming to cover her breasts as she stared up at him.

“Breakfast is ready,” he said before closing the door again. When he turned and looked at the meal waiting on the table, he felt a little bit of pride. The bacon was a little burnt and the toast was crumbling but it was better than nothing. He poured two cups of instant coffee and as he carried them back Meg opened the door, running a towel through her hair. She was dressed in a ratty bathrobe with holes in it and its dumpy look was years too old for her. Castiel smiled anyway, gesturing to the table.

Meg’s eyes widened at the full breakfast he had created. “You didn’t have to do this, I usually eat oatmeal.”

“I wanted to,” he explained. “Besides, you looked hungry.”

He waited until she sat before he took his own seat. Bowing his head, he said a quick prayer and Meg paused when he made no move to eat. He opened an eye and squinted at her. “You don’t have to pray. I don’t judge.”

She sighed. “What a relief. I cared.”

He snorted at her sarcasm and set about fixing his plate. Meg did her own and began devouring the hot meal with every evidence of enjoyment, much to Castiel’s amusement. He ate slower, more watching her than anything else, and took pleasure in the fact that she obviously liked what he had done for her. When she had finished the brunt of her pancake and eggs, Meg smeared honey on her toast and once she took a loaded bite she gave him a curious look as she chewed and swallowed.

“So what do you want?” she asked.

Trust Meg to get to the point when she was suspicious. Castiel took a sip of coffee and cleared his throat.

“It occurred to me, a few days ago, that we have never gone on a real date.”

She blinked rapidly. “Sorry?”

“And I would like to date you. Very much.”

“You’re serious?” she asked. “I mean, it would be backwards, wouldn’t it? We’ve slept together, now you want to date?”

He took another sip. “I’m serious.”

“So, what, dinner, movies, holding hands and sneaking kisses at county fairs?” She wrinkled her nose. “I’m not sure that’s for us.”

“It can be what you like. I just would like to be…with you.”

Meg frowned. “You _are_ serious.”

Castiel frowned back at her. “Do I look like I would be joking with you about this?” he demanded and she put a hand in the air, gesturing with her toast at him.

“I’m just thinking, Clarence, that you and I…I mean, we get along fine in bed but outside it, we might be too different to make going steady make sense for us.”

“What do you have to lose if we try?” he asked bluntly. “We’re not kids, Meg.”

She leaned back and took a bite of her toast. As she chewed, she rolled her eyes up to the ceiling and made a show of thinking it over. Coming to a decision, Meg swallowed and crossed her legs, giving him a smirk when his eyes were drawn to her bared calves.

“Fine. Let’s give it a shot.” She nodded at the table. “After all, you make a mean breakfast and a girl could get used to it.”

Hiding how pleased he was by that, Castiel set about finishing his coffee. When Meg moved off her chair, he nearly dribbled the hot liquid down his chest when she approached and sat in his lap as if she belonged there. Her old robe gaped open to give him full sight of her breasts and thighs and he swallowed noisily, putting his cup back down while his other arm went around her waist.

“I mean, if we’re gonna go with the old dating rules, I shouldn’t let you…touch me….kiss me…in any way that isn’t chaste.” Meg ran her hand along his upper arm and in return he started to trail his fingers down her knee towards her thigh. “I mean, tradition, right? Make you want to buy the cow, not the milk? Gotta save myself so you don’t just use me.”

He glared at her. “I don’t use you.”

“Mm…” She unbuttoned his shirt a few buttons and leaned forward to give his collarbone a lick. He shuddered at the feel of her tongue and moved his hand quickly up her thigh to cup her between her legs. The faint mewling moan she made let him know she was playing with him and he relaxed a little. Her mouth moved from his neck to his ear. “I think we should just keep our hands to ourselves. Leave it to just a kiss goodnight on the front step and holding hands in public, don’t you?”

Castiel felt a growl building up in his throat and he swung Meg around in his lap so she straddled him. His fingers laced through her hair and he pulled her head down so she was just a breath from kissing him. She kept just out of reach, a puckish look on her face and her eyes glimmering a little. At his disappointed groan, she chuckled and ran her hand down his cheek.

“Now, now, Clarence, you should know I’m a good girl who doesn’t kiss a boy just because he makes her breakfast.”

The arm around her waist tightened and he stood up abruptly, taking her with him. He swept the dishes out of the way, not caring how they smashed, and plopped her down on the table. She was laughing the entire time even as she reached for the belt on the robe while she tightened her legs around his hips. Castiel did growl this time and tore the belt out of her hands, pulling her robe open to find her skin still fresh and warm from her bath.

“You’re a bad girl sometimes,” he said. Meg grasped him by the coat collar and hauled him down so they were nose to nose. She started on his belt buckle, their conversation about dating forgotten when they were so close, and his fingers forced her robe down her shoulders before cupping her breasts. She leaned forward, brushing a kiss to his mouth and chuckling when he shivered.

“Come on, baby, use all that saintly learning to teach me a lesson,” she whispered against his mouth. “Just remember how I…”

She was still trying to talk when Castiel lowered his head and kissed the words from her mouth.

 


	24. I wanna walk you home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Going Steady isn't that hard. Overcoming years of hurt feelings and stunted emotions? That might be more difficult.

Dating each other was not as hard as Castiel had thought it might be but it was unlike what he had expected. Mostly due to their different backgrounds, neither knew what the other wanted. Castiel had had his visions of what dating should be, what it must be, and Meg tended to step all over them. He had expected nervous anticipation and sweaty hand holding in movie theatres, chasteness for a few weeks as they went to socially acceptable functions together, but the first night after her shift he picked her up Meg had simply looped her fingers through his and led him after her to Limbo for drinks and then to the all-night diner. She made it clear she wasn’t up for the things he thought were necessary; she didn’t care for going to see his family or spending time making calf eyes at one another at a party because it was expected. They were, as Meg pointed out, old enough not to have to do that. When he realized she had no intention of acting like teenagers, it became an easy thing between them by falling into a pattern similar to years ago. The only difference was that the sex and forbidden nature of it all were no longer the reasons to be together.

It was a new thing that Castiel found rather exciting still.

Castiel was aware that Dean was hiding his worry and disapproval behind his usual sarcasm, while Sam ignored it all as usual. As far as Sam was concerned, Castiel was a grown man who could make his own choices. Dean simply worried. It was why Castiel kept Meg to himself most of the time, not out of shame but out of preservation for what was developing between them.

Dating was strange nowadays, considering the strict morality he’d been raised with, but he wasn’t about to chance anything.

Castiel was surprised one day close to holidays when he picked her up after work for an early dinner and Meg gave him a bagged book. She didn’t so much as hand it over as shoved it at him nervously before looking out the window. Castiel kept it on his lap and waited until they were parked outside their usual diner before he went to open it. Without a word, Meg bounced out of the truck wrapped in her heavy coat, and headed in without him while Castiel turned the book in his hands.

He frowned. It was a thin little book of stories and tucked in the front cover was a sheet of paper. It was a movie release form, old by the yellowing of the paper, and he read the synopsis quickly.

“Clarence,” he muttered with a smile.

He tucked the book under the work portfolio he always kept with him and followed Meg in to their usual booth. Once he sat in front of her, Castiel’s curiosity got the better of him. “Thank you. I assume that you thought of me as the angel?”

She scowled and sipped her coffee. “Don’t let it get to your head.” Meg actually seemed embarrassed. “I found that book at the shop. Thought of you.”

Castiel reached out and looped his fingers through hers, gently squeezing. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” she mumbled. Then she gave him a grin and promptly changed the subject. “I didn’t tell you before but I caught the ward nurse in the supply closet with one of the resident doctors.”

Castiel chuckled. “I can imagine that went well.”

“Let’s just say she owes me a favour or two now. So does he.” Meg’s look was nearly feline in its satisfaction. “And I can’t wait.”

He ran his thumb over the back of her hand. “So you’re coming up to the holidays?” he asked and she nodded. “Hospital will be busy, I’m sure.”

“Probably. Everyone but me has it booked off it seems.” She shrugged. “That’s the breaks though, right?”

“Mm.” Castiel turned his head as the waitress approached. She’d become used to them by now and had put in an order without asking. She set Meg’s soup and sandwich down, before turning to Castiel with a burger and fries. Once it was set down, she leaned over and smiled at him.

“Made with extra care, sugar. I salted the fries myself,” she said with a wink. Confused, Castiel tightened his grip on Meg’s hand but she was stifling a giggle and refused to help him.

“Thanks, um, Margaret.”

“Call me Peg anytime you want,” the thickly made up woman breathed.

“Peg. Thank you.” Castiel looked back at Meg desperately and she sighed, leaning forward on the table a bit.

“You know, honey,” she said with dripping sweetness, “you do work up quite an appetite sometimes.”

Castiel stared at her as the waitress at first gobbled and then dissolved into a chuckle.

“Pie’s on the menu.”

“Mm. That’s a good starter,” Meg muttered and Castiel felt red colouring his cheeks as he looked away. The waitress was still laughing as she went back to the counter.

“That wasn’t nice,” he grumbled. “I can’t help that she looks at me so oddly.”

“Who said I’m ever nice?” Meg asked as she started to lean away. Castiel pulled on her hand until she came back.

“I think…”

Meg leaned on the table and pressed her lips against his for a quick kiss that left him feeling baffled and breathless. Normally she was never so demonstrative. When she pulled back he knew he looked stupid with how his mouth remained pursed but he couldn’t help it. She tucked into her food with pleasure and gave him a look when he stared at her.

“Better get eating, handsome. Or we’ll miss the late show.”

Obediently, Castiel reached for his burger and took a huge bite just as the door clanged open and Dean and Sam came in. The waitress immediately forgot what she was doing to openly flirt with both men, but Sam had noticed Castiel and Meg in the corner. He directed Dean over but not before Dean received the waitress’s number with barely any effort.

Castiel drew his hand away from Meg’s grip and she gave him a questioning look though she said nothing.

“Look what we have here,” Dean said for a greeting as they stood beside the couple’s table. Meg gave him a vaguely annoyed look.

“Bit old for you, isn’t she?”

“Never doubt a lady with experience,” Dean said with satisfaction. “Shove over.”

Castiel and Meg reluctantly shifted towards the window as Dean and Sam dropped into the booth beside him. Dean began to eat the fries off Castiel’s plate without asking while Sam took Meg’s water for himself. Meg gave Castiel a look that he couldn’t read and simply continued to eat her soup, slurping noisily as if to make a point.

“We’ve been looking for you. Should have known you’d be hanging around Ms. Masters,” Dean began around a mouthful of fries.

“Well, we are dating,” Castiel pointed out.

“So you are.” Another fry disappeared from Castiel’s plate and he quickly made sure to guard his hamburger from Dean’s thieving hands. “You got plans for Christmas day or the day after?”

“Family visit in the morning, most likely. I’m not sure. Mother was going to Washington and Anna was going to Aunt Mara’s house if the roads hold. Ruby is driving her. I might not be going anywhere after all.”

Meg glanced at him but said nothing. It was Sam who raised his eyebrows.

“You trust Ruby?”

“With Anna? Oddly yes.” Castiel took a bite of his burger and took his time chewing. “Why do you ask?”

Dean grabbed another fry. “That big old bus Bobby had you help fix up a few weeks ago? We’re taking it to Vegas for Christmas. Gonna get the whole old gang together. Well, those of us still living. Garth, Bobby…”

“Benny,” Sam said. “Though he wasn’t part of the gang.”

“Don’t be jealous,” Dean drawled but he was looking at Castiel. “Thought you’d like to come. Gambling, girls, good times.”

“It would be nice to get away from Harrow for a bit,” Castiel admitted. “I’ve been living in novels too long.”

“That’s the spirit. We’ll see what trouble we can get into.” Satisfied, Dean then turned to Meg. “Haven’t seen you in a while, Meg. Been behaving, I see.”

“Oh, only because you want me to, Mr. Winchester,” she simpered as she bit into her beef sandwich. At his disbelieving grunt, she smirked. “Not much else to do in this town but behave a little.”

“Heard you were nursing,” Sam said.

“Girl has to make a living and sometimes being on your back gets old,” she sneered. Sensing she was looking for a fight, Castiel reached for her hand across the table but she brushed it aside and took her coffee cup instead. It was strange to feel hurt that after her playful kiss she was back to being standoffish and he didn’t understand it, but he continued to eat while shooting her confused glances.

“I bet.” Dean was watching them both carefully now. “How long is this dating thing gonna last for?”

“Why? You green?” Meg asked as she wiped her mouth.

He snorted. “Not sure if we’ve got enough booze to repair any damage you do _this_ time.”

Castiel nudged him hard with his elbow but Meg sensed the double talk. “What do you mean?”

“He moped around for…what, Sam? A year?”

“Something like that,” Sam agreed but he saw Castiel’s discomfort and gave him a sympathetic look though he didn’t try to derail his brother.

“Just saying, Meg, I’m not hoping for a repeat. Castiel all mopey is a buzz-kill.” Dean grunted when Castiel ground his heel into Dean’s foot under the table.

Meg pursed her lips and set half of her sandwich down. Castiel saw her eyes narrow and knew that Dean had succeeded in needling her. Whatever reason he had for doing this, it had rankled her enough that she was ready to start getting nasty.

“We, uh, need to go. Movie starts in a bit and we have to get tickets still,” Castiel interrupted.

“What are you seeing?” Sam asked, eager to help defuse the situation.

“Uh.” He frowned and looked at Meg but she had her head turned away, her jaw tight and her colour high. “ _The Manchurian Candidate._ It’s the last week it’s running here.”

“Sounds fun. We should tag along,” Dean said. Castiel nearly did invite them; it would be nice, he figured, to do something with his friends that didn’t revolve around work. But one look at Meg’s averted face made him change his mind. She was clearly uncomfortable and there was something troubling her.

“Actually, we were going to…it was just going to be us.”

Dean stared hard at him.

“Alone.” Meg looked at Castiel with some surprise and he nodded at her. “If you’re done?” he asked as he put a five on the table and waited for Dean to move.

“We’ll pick you up Christmas around noon then,” Dean said as he stood up.

“Sounds good,” Castiel agreed and he nodded to Sam as Meg scooted out as well. She walked ahead of him down the diner but before Castiel could follow her Dean took him by the elbow.

“Just be careful, okay?” he asked. Castiel nodded and walked away, aware that both brothers were staring after them as he let the door bang behind him.

Around the corner, Meg was standing at his truck, hands tucked into her pockets. The cold had given her skin a pale glow and her eyes seemed larger than before in the muted neon light of the diner. Instead of unlocking the door, Castiel stepped into her and rested a hand on the roof beside her head.

“What’s wrong?”

“Just tired,” she said without looking at him. “Had a long shift.”

“Meg,” he began and she finally looked at him, “did you want to just cancel tonight?”

Whatever had put her off of their date must have bothered her enough to say yes, though she hid it well. Castiel helped her into the truck and drove quietly back to her apartment. With one hand on the wheel as he navigated the still busy streets and his other arm slung over the bench seat, he ran his fingers absentmindedly across her shoulders and the back of her neck, until the tension she’d been holding released suddenly. He felt it beneath his finger tips and he saw her start to slouch a little, her eyes closing. Rather than take the turn to her eccentric little neighbourhood, he kept going until they were driving up the backroads that rounded around the closest farms. He drew up beside an empty pasture and shut the truck off before turning to Meg.

Her eyes opened slowly and she sighed. “This isn’t home.”

“I know.” Castiel leaned against the driver door and watched Meg as she gazed out at the familiar area.

“Oh, I remember this. River is just around the corner, right?”

“Dried up these days, thanks to that new farm.” He moved the portfolio and book underneath the seat and slumped back again. Meg watched him from the corner of her eye, a tiny smirk on her lips, when he put his fingers very gently to the nape of her neck. Her eyes closed again as he started to rub the tense muscles.

“So.” He cleared his throat and rubbed a little harder. “We’ve been going steady for a few weeks now.”

Her eyes opened again. “And?”

“I’ve enjoyed it. Have you?” he asked a little too earnestly.

“Yeah. Been swell.” Meg moaned as he rubbed a knot out of her aching muscles. “But I keep waiting for the other foot to drop.”

He stopped his caress. “What?”

“It’s what I’m good at, remember? Don’t get me wrong, last few weeks have been fun, but Winchesters have a point. This can only end with one of us getting hurt.”

Castiel sighed and removed his hand. “Meg. Sometimes you’re too cynical.”

“Considering everything that’s happened? Yeah.”

He fidgeted on his seat. “We never talk about what happened… after I left.”

He saw her hand twitch towards the door handle but she clenched it in her lap. “It is in the past but sometimes…” She turned her head. “Don’t you feel that way? That it’s going to go to Hell if you make the wrong move?”

“Of course I do.” Looking out the window, Castiel tried to calm the nerves she was causing. “But I also think you’re worth feeling that way about.”

Meg frowned. “Cass, it comes down to us being from two different worlds. Doesn’t matter what I do, I’ll always be that girl from the bad side of town who used to fuck half the town while you’re the silver-spoon boy who tried to save souls. You can’t tell me you don’t notice the looks we get from people that know us.”

He shook his head. “You’re more than that and so am I.”

Meg rolled her eyes as she brushed her hair from her face. “You’re something else, Clarence,” she said.

Castiel didn’t look at her, knowing that what stood between them was becoming less about other people and more about them. He had once been a man with dreams of being a reverend, a man who had gone to war and seen too many terrible things to have much faith anymore, while Meg’s life on the streets had jaded her to the slightest bit of kindness. She might always expect it to turn bad and he might never convince her it wouldn’t.

He rubbed at his scruffy cheek and sighed. The pickup was starting to become cold as the heat dissipated and he knew they’d have to leave sooner or later. Meg’s silence was just as cold and though he wanted to reach out to touch her, he kept his hands to himself.

It was a surprise when she suddenly crossed the pickup bench to curl against him. Castiel felt her tuck into his body, cheek pressed against his chest while her shoulder nestled beneath his arm. Despite occasional hand holding, Meg had never initiated such innocent affection like this in a very long time. He had always been so nervous to do the proper thing that he hadn’t considered just drawing her in like this. Resolved to let her take comfort from him, he dropped his hand to draw her closer. She sighed, knees pulling up close to her chest as she leaned into him fully, head tilting just beneath his chin.

“We’re a screwed up pair, huh?” she asked, voicing his previous thoughts with dry sarcasm. Castiel hummed an agreement and pressed a kiss against her temple when she sighed. “Maybe it is good we found each other after all.”

“Maybe,” he agreed.

 


	25. I’m hanging up my heart for you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A surprise during the holidays shows Meg that maybe it wouldn't hurt to let go of the past as the New Year begins.

With Meg too busy during the holidays, covering shifts and working later and later, Castiel found himself alone or with the Winchesters more. Normally he wouldn’t have minded. But three weeks of going on daily dates had given him a taste for her company and rather than grow weary of her, he found himself being moodier without her. By the time Christmas rolled around, his mood was foul enough he snapped at nearly everyone and he stopped receiving invitations from Dean and Sam because of it.

Now he had to paint a happy smile on his face while part of him was wanting to grumble as he helped Anna load her things into their father’s old Ford. He shoved her suitcase into the trunk and his sister noted how he slammed things into the back. Ruby was upstairs locking up and Anna stayed seated in the passenger side, an amused smirk on her lips.

“Something up?” she asked.

“Nothing. Do you have your medication?” he asked as he closed the trunk with a smack. She patted her bag but gave him an eager look.

“It’s Meg, isn’t it?” she asked and he ignored her to check under the hood one last time. “Come on, Cass, I am dying for some gossip here!”

“Mind your own business,” he ordered and she chuckled. “I mean it, Anna.”

“Oh I can’t. You’re moodier than Mother was when Father brought that assistant of his home with them for Thanksgiving.”

Castiel made a face at the memory. “Becky was rather energetic.”

“And he was annoyed you were hanging around that girl again,” Anna said with a devilish look. Castiel nodded. “But at least Mother told him off. He sulked for hours but I heard he fired Becky when they got back to Washington.”

“Good thing. Mother would have likely slipped her arsenic if Father had brought her for Christmas dinner,” Castiel muttered. “Have fun with Aunt Mara.”

“Always do. Though she’ll try to marry me off, I’m sure. Not that I’m interested in marriage,” Anna said. Her eyes were on Ruby as she approached. “Hopefully she likes Ruby.”

Castiel followed her gaze and then gave his sister a pointed look that made her blush. “I’m leaving for Vegas tonight,” he said.

“Meg going?” Anna asked and he shook his head.

“She’s working until New Years Eve. Her shift was changed again. My trip is a week long so I won’t see her till after New Years.”

“Did you get her anything?”

Castiel frowned. “No? Should I have?”

She gave him a wide-eyed look. “Oh, Cass.”

“Well, she doesn’t celebrate Christmas. Or any holiday.”

“You asked her that?” Anna asked.

“Meg is hardly religious,” Castiel said and Anna sighed.

“Cass, you and I both know that she could still enjoy the holiday without being religious. Get her something before you see her again.” Anna swivelled in her seat. “And have fun in Vegas if you can. You deserve to be happy.”

#

For some reason, Anna’s words resonated with Castiel as he stood outside his rented house with his old canvas army bag in the cold wind. Collar turned up against the wind, he huddled against his truck and waited for Dean and Sam to show up. He’d left a message for Meg at the hospital wishing her a Happy New Year but she’d been too busy to meet him. It troubled Castiel that he was so enamoured with her that it actually bothered him he couldn’t see her. But she’d made it clear on those double shift days that she was too tired to do much else than sleep and he had taken the hint that he wasn’t really welcome.

If things had been normal between them, if they had been teenagers going steady, life would have been simpler, Castiel determined. What they had come to was just as bad as years ago, when he had been falling in love with her.

“Now you’re just lying to yourself,” he muttered aloud with grouchy realization. He was still in love with her and the years hadn’t really tarnished that at all. If anything it had hardened to something a little deeper than his infatuation back then.

A loud choking pop made him look up to see the Winchesters driving up. The old army bus screeched up to his driveway and stopped with a jerk that nearly took out his mailbox. Cranking the folding door open, Dean leaned out and grinned. “All aboard,” he greeted. “Gotta pick up Benny and Bobby from the South depot with the others. Then it’s gambling and girls.”

Castiel hesitated. “Not sure I should be going,” he explained. “I mean…me…in Vegas?”

“Come on, Cass,” Dean said with a grin as he took his bag for him and turned to hand it to Sam. “Hop in. Live a little. Do what you wanna do.”

He frowned. “What was that?”

“Do what you wanna do? I’ve told you that before, haven’t I?” Dean asked. Castiel shook his head. “Huh, then I always meant to anyway.”

Castiel stared up at the bus with a determined expression and nodded. “Do what I want to do. You’re right.”

Dean grinned. “Vegas here we come, huh?”

#

New Years Eve gave Meg nothing more than the same lack of enthusiasm she had shown Christmas holidays when she had left at midnight. The only difference was that as of five in the afternoon she was headed down the street in a rush to to get home before the entire city was blanketed. Grumpily, she kept swishing her bag to try to dislodge the snow and narrowly hit another stupid person stuck in this weather. Meg wondered if it would be worth the expense to move somewhere hot, as she always did in the winter months. There she could have some hunky cabana boy to see to her pleasure.

The thought of Castiel in tight swim trunks caused a wicked grin to come to her lips. Cabana boy indeed. She could see him tanning up and getting muscled in the Caribbean sun and the thought gave her a little more pleasure to balance out her horrible work week. The possibility of not returning when her contract was done was so strong that picking up and leaving Harrow for paradise was becoming a great alternative.

Except she doubted Castiel wanted to leave permanently and it was the one thing holding her back, though she would deny it to him and everyone else. He was attached to the Winchesters like a faithful old dog and his family was here. Unlike Meg, he had reasons to stay, to come back time and time again. It was more her bad luck and timing that kept her in Harrow. Not Castiel. She tried hard to believe that.

Meg found her front gate unlocked and shook her head, knowing Pam had likely forgotten again. She couldn’t be too irritated though. Pam had let Meg know of a party at Limbo, where there was the promise of drinks and if she could summon the energy, she’d head down after a sandwich and snooze. Then she could forget that she hadn’t seen Castiel for a week now and even less before that thanks to work. She could forget her foul mood was in part because of his absence.

She was halfway up the steps when she heard music that was eerily familiar. Realizing her door was ajar, she bolted up the staircase as fast as her heels let her and stood outside the door, fist clenched around her keys and ready to puncture any face that got in her way. She could handle herself but Pam might frown upon actual murder being committed in her apartments. Meg swung the door open and slowly headed through, only to drop her bag on the floor in surprise.

Her apartment, usually dark already, was lit up with strings of Chinese paper lanterns that dangled from the ceiling beam and candles set on her sparse shelves. The glow they gave made her stare in confusion, at the perfectly made bed that she knew she had left rumpled early this morning, at the record player humming beside her couch, and the stack of papers on her bistro table. The record she recognized as her new Solomon Burke she’d scrounged to buy as a present to herself and she cocked her head on the side as she turned to her kitchen next. There was two brown paper bags on her counter and curled around a saucer of food was Steve.

The stray gave her a surly look and Meg glared back. “Some guard cat,” she muttered and she closed the door behind herself. Confused by how clean and welcoming her usually drab apartment was, she unbuttoned her coat. Pam wouldn’t do this, they weren’t close and she kept her distance.

“I was wondering when you’d get home,” Castiel said suddenly from behind her and she whirled, hand coming up between them. He didn’t flinch, simply continued to towel off his wet dark hair as he smiled. “I hope you don’t mind that I used your shower. I was stuck in the snow and had to warm up.”

Too confused to think of something witty, she watched as he walked around her to her kitchen and she turned with him. He glanced over his shoulder at her.

“Hospital said you were off at five so I made sure to come here early.”

“You are supposed to be in Vegas,” Meg pointed out. “That was the big Winchester plan, wasn’t it?”

He set her kettle on the stove and clicked on the burner until it lit. “I decided not to go. I only stayed away because I knew you’d be exhausted from work.”

“You gave up gambling for this?” Meg asked, gesturing at the blowing snow outside her window. “Guess you aren’t as smart as I thought.”

“I gave it up to spend New Years with you,” he correct without turning around and he spooned coffee into mugs. “I decided I’d rather be here.”

Meg struggled to come up with something clever again but she felt derailed by his almost cheerful attitude. “Girls and gambling don’t do it for you, huh?”

“Girls do. I’m just particular, as Dean kept pointing out when I told him I wasn’t going,” he said as he took plates from her cupboard. “I hope you like takeout. I know there’s more traditional meals but I thought it wouldn’t be a bad idea.”

“I had plans to go to Limbo for the party this evening,” Meg interrupted as she kicked off her shoes and slung her coat onto a hook. “You should have told me you were staying in town.”

“It took me a while to get the nerve to do this,” he explained as the kettle began to whistle, “and I don’t mind. We can have supper and then you can go.”

She had the nagging feeling that underneath his calm facade Castiel was very nervous about having intruded on her life this way and he was expecting her to snap at him at any moment. It reminded her like a pet dog expecting a smack; he refused to really look at her and he seemed resigned to being yelled at for doing something he saw as good. He likely had been yelled at before. Meg chewed on her lower lip as she thought it over before shrugging.

“Supper does sound good,” she said and he finally glanced at her, his eyes sparkling a little in relief. “Let me shower first and then we can eat.”

“I didn’t use much hot water,” he said as he turned to remove the kettle from the burner. “I also left you something in there, a present.”

“A present? But…”

“I know you don’t celebrate Christmas but I wanted to.” Castiel poured the water out and kept his eyes down. “I don’t expect anything in return for it, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

A little confused that he knew her that well, Meg headed into the bathroom and left the door ajar. There was a damp towel hanging up, her last good one, and she frowned as she realized there was two more fluffy ones on the vanity. “You got me a towel?” she called out and she heard him snort.

“No, not a towel. I brought those because I knew you only had one. I was tired of drying off with a wet towel whenever I stayed the night.”

“You could just air dry,” she answered. “I might not mind the view.”

She heard him muttering in embarrassment and grinned as she turned on the faucets and the shower began to spray into the tub. Removing her cold wet dress and underclothes, she stood naked in the draughty bathroom and tried to figure out what he’d left her. She gave up and closed the door. Meg took the quickest shower she could just to warm up and wash the stink of hospital from her skin and towelled off quickly as the cold air bit at her skin. When she reached for her bathrobe on the back of the door blindly, her fingers snagged on silk and she froze, feeling down the length.

“Did you find it?” Castiel asked through the door. “I thought of you when I saw it at the department store a few days ago. I knew you needed a new one.”

It was a simple gesture, Meg reminded herself as she stood naked, staring at the black, silver rose patterned robe and deep purple chemise. Simple. A present. Just a thing between two people. Still, she couldn’t help but shimmy into it, smoothing her hand down the length with a grin. It fell to mid-thigh and was the most seductively decadent thing she’d ever had. She eased into the robe, left it open, and opened the door.

It was gratifying when Castiel dropped the papers he was holding onto the ground at the sight of her. Meg bit her lip to keep from laughing at his expression and simply arched an eyebrow. He stooped to collect the papers and his eyes rested on her legs for a long moment. Meg had some tempting thoughts of what she could do with him on his knees but her stomach growled instead.

“Dinner?” Meg asked as she walked around him. “Or were you teasing me?”

“In the oven,” he croaked as he set the papers on the side-table. “I brought some wine as well.”

She had to hide her amusement as Castiel’s aroused discomfort continued through dinner. His eyes travelled everywhere over her as they ate the reheated pasta, lingering on the top of her breasts and eyeing the way her chemise rode up her thighs as she sat across from him. He clearly wanted to pounce but good manners and usual reservations held him back. Pushing her plate back, Meg leaned back and saucily slid her leg over his until her foot rested on his thigh. He hurriedly gulped down a glass of wine while Meg sipped hers, grinning with satisfaction.

“This was nice,” she said finally. “Didn’t expect it that’s for sure.”

“I’d missed you,” he admitted and he poured them both more wine. “Didn’t expect it myself.”

Meg nodded.

“How is work?”

“Thinking of quitting once I graduate. Hospital at least.”

He took another long sip and eyed her over the rim of the glass. As he swallowed, he tilted his head and gave her a smile. “What would you do instead?”

“Private care maybe. To be honest if one more doctor calls me ‘sweetheart’ and pinches my butt I might get arrested for murder,” Meg complained. Castiel’s mouth tightened to a scowl.

“They’re bothering you?”

“Nothing I can’t handle. Just tired. That and these double shifts are killing me. If I hadn’t planned on being at Limbo by midnight I’d sleep it away,” she said with a drowsy grin. She noticed how indecisive he looked, his eyes darting to the door. Meg nudged his groin with her foot to get his attention. “How about we listen to the records and you work while I get some sleep? I don’t have to leave right away.”

The relief on his face would have made her laugh if it hadn’t secretly touched a part of her she’d thought long buried. She stacked the dishes in the sink and switched to a different record, the entire time feeling him at her back. His hand grazed the nape of her neck in a gentle touch but then dropped away just as quickly. Whatever he meant to say he stopped himself from doing so and instead Castiel picked up his work, taking a spot by the lamp as he sank into her old couch. Steve hissed at him from where he was sprawled on the back but didn’t move. Meg looked at the bed and made a face herself before she gathered her new robe tight around her chest and sat beside Castiel. He watched her warily as she swivelled around and made herself comfortable as she stretched out and laid down with her head on his thigh.

The feel of his hand smoothing down her shoulder in up and down caresses made her sleepy and she closed her eyes as she brought her hand up and rested it on his knee. Her grip tightened just a little, just to reaffirm that he was there with her, and she let herself relax for the first time in days.

His lowly murmured ‘Wake up, Meg’ stirred her from her deep doze to find herself covered up to her chin with her throw and his hand still stroking her shoulder. Like a cat, she pressed her cheek to his thigh and curled her legs towards her chest as she tightened her hand on his knee. She nestled deeper into his warmth and she felt his hand still.

“It’s past eleven,” Castiel explained. Groaning, she rolled upright and leaned into him while she ruffled her hair and yawned. “I tried to wake you earlier but you were sleeping too deeply. I’m sorry.”

Bleary eyed, she looked out the window to see the night sky. The snow had stopped at least. “Not a big deal, Clarence, but it looks like I wasn’t going anywhere anyway.”

“But you were looking forward to it,” he said, arm coming around her shoulders. Meg dragged the quilt up over her shoulders to ward off the chill in the apartment.

“Not really. People only go to those things for cheap gin and a New Years kiss.” She shifted away to turn her record player off and flipped on the radio, dialling to a local channel. The announcer was commenting on the news still and when she turned she found herself almost toe to toe with Castiel. Pushing her hair out of her eyes, she smiled up at him and made a show of looking him up and down. “I mean, I could still go if you weren’t planning on kissing me tonight?”

He licked his lips. “I’ll get the second bottle in a minute.”

She chuckled and watched him head to her bathroom before pouring the last bit of wine into her glass. After a long, satisfying sip, she set the glass down and moved to her balcony with the quilt still draped over her shoulders. The overhang protected it from the snow and wind, but still she stuffed her feet into her clunky old boots before she opened the balcony door. It was cold but not so cold that she did more than shiver a little. Three stories below and down the back street she could see the party going on at the closest bar. It was a tempting sight but the thought of getting dolled up wasn’t inviting.

“You’ll freeze,” Castiel said from behind her and she smirked to herself, lifting her foot out of her loose boot to stroke it down her bare calf.

“Maybe you should get out here and keep me warm,” Meg said without turning around.

“So that I’d freeze as well?” he asked with obvious amusement. “What if I get sick?”

“Guess I’d have to test my nursing skills on you, Clarence.” She glanced over her shoulder and let the quilt sag around her shoulders to reveal the curve of her back. His gaze was heated and she smiled as she set the quilt on the rail next. “There’s gonna be fireworks, I heard.”

She looked back out when she heard laughter from the distance and the sudden feel of his hard body pressing against her from behind made her sink into him a little. The coat he’d pulled on parted just enough to invite her back into its warmth. His arms braced on the railing on either side of her and she felt his chin against the top of her head as he moved his hands closer together to keep her close. Meg closed her eyes as one of his hands left the rail to slide up her silk-covered stomach before cupping her breast.

“Start the New Year with a bang?” Meg joked, biting back a moan as he rubbed her nipple through the silk.

He grunted. “Your jokes are getting worse, you know.”

She shivered as he moved his mouth to her neck and began to bite and lick at her skin. “Come on, baby, lie to me and tell me they don’t get you hot.” She swivelled her hips and felt him hiss when she bumped into his groin. “‘Cause I can tell you’d be lying.”

They were exposed. Anyone with half a mind could look through the garden trellis, look up and see them, but Castiel didn’t seem to care as he stroked her breasts while kissing along her neck and jaw. Meg shuddered and shifted until she was rubbing up against him, her dress hiking up further and further. Cold as she was, his touch was heating her up and she groaned as his hand slid down her stomach to cup her between the legs. His fingers pressed the chemise upward until he was grinding the heel of his palm against her.

“I forgot to go to the drug store. I don’t have anything,” he muttered and his fingers slipped beneath the skirt of the chemise. “I should have planned better.”

Meg opened her eyes and turned her head a little to see the disappointment on his face. His fingers slid into her body with such ease she had to bite back a deep groan though she spread her legs a little to help him. Reaching behind herself, she blindly unbuckled his trousers and reached inside his boxers to grasp him at the same time she moaned and pressed against the hand teasing her. His own startled groan made her chuckle as she rested her head back on his shoulder, hand still awkwardly stroking him.

“Meg?” he demanded and his fingers stopped moving. “Did you…hear…”

“I heard you. Lucky for you the favour I called in at work was with the new gynaecologist and he slipped me something new to the market.” He gave her a puzzled and slightly pained look when she removed her hand so she could reach up to the back of his head. “Happy New Year,” she murmured before guiding his mouth down so that she could kiss him. His grip tightened on the rail until it rattled violently but he didn’t seem able to find the words to question her. The fingers inside her slipped out and he could press on the small of her back until she shifted forward.

Feeling the skirt of her chemise lifting just over her ass, Meg moved slowly and ground herself against him until he held her tighter around the waist. He muttered something too low for her to figure out and she felt his cock nudge inside of her. His arm almost lifted her out of her boots and he thrust slowly into her until she released her held breath with a pleased sigh. His breathy groan against the back of her neck made her chuckle even as she wriggled into him until he was deep within her. Her laughter died in her throat as he began to move in slow, rocking movements that bottomed out inside of her. Her breathy moans choked out of her tight throat as he pressed kisses against her neck and whispered how she good she felt when he was inside of her like this. When his fingers slid from her hip to between her thighs once more, she staggered her legs apart as far as she could and gasped as he moved harder and deeper inside of her. She no longer felt the cold, only the heat coming from both of them, and she heard him give a deep sigh.

“I don’t think I can stop,” he whispered into her ear and he still didn’t speed up though she nearly wanted to beg him to.

Meg felt her legs trembling and she reached down to clutch at the arm supporting her. “Me neither.”

For long minutes, Castiel seemed utterly lost in her and she found herself equally adrift in the sensation that was causing every muscle to clench up with bone-jarring pleasure. When it became too much, Meg gave a deep throated moan that could draw attention of anyone walking on the street and felt another one threatening to escape. Castiel groaned and he reached up to grasp her by the chin and turn her head. His mouth crushed hers and she raked her teeth against his lower lip as she tried to cry out again. His tongue slipped into her mouth to keep her quiet and she trembled in his arms as she stopped fighting the desire washing over her. For a moment she forgot to breathe as she fell headlong into an orgasm that left every part of her flushed and hot, while Castiel moved even harder against her. As he came, his mouth ripped from hers to drop to her neck and his mouth pressed to her skin to stifle his own cry. He shook against her back and his hands let her go to grab the rail for support, his grip so tight that his knuckles turned white.

Aware of a satisfied feeling that pleasantly relaxed all of her old tension, Meg reached back to stroke his sweated hair and shivered as he finally pulled back. Her chemise fell back down around her hips as he moved away to fix his clothing and she picked up the quilt to wrap over her cooling body. Even from streets over, she could hear people shouting that it was close to midnight but before she could speak she felt him stepping close once more.

“We should go in,” Castiel murmured against her neck and he pressed a kiss to the hickey she could feel forming there. He led her back inside, now shaking from the cold, and she kicked the big boots to a corner while he removed his own shoes and tossed his coat over a chair.

Meg disappeared into the bathroom to clean up and took her time to slick on spare lipstick and fix her mussed hair. When she came back out she heard a loud pop and fizz from the kitchen though his back was to her. As she pulled the quilt up to cover her thin nightgown again, Castiel turned and handed her her wine glass now filled to the brim with bubbling champagne. She peeked over his shoulder at the expensive, dusty bottle on the counter. At her questioning look, he shrugged.

“Father has a good wine cellar and he’s not there to use it.” He squinted at the bottle and read the aged label. “This was probably expensive.”

“Oh, aren’t you being a bad boy, huh?” she teased even as she sipped a bit of the champagne. The sweet bubbles tickled her tongue and she sighed with new pleasure, feeling now sated and sleepy from sex. He shook his head but jumped when there was sudden loud shouting and screaming of partiers on the streets. His expression turned a little hunted, a little vacant, but he lifted his hand toward her. Without thinking Meg crossed the floor to stand near him and used her slight body to ground him as she let him touch her with a shaking hand. Her cold skin prickled under his calloused palm as he let it rest on her shoulder and when he relaxed again she gestured with her glass between them until he finally lifted his own. They clinked the glasses together and held each other’s gazes as they both took a long drink. When their glasses were almost empty, she took his away to set it on the table before she took his hands in hers and put them on her waist. Meg slipped her own hands up his arms and grinned at the way he stared down at her as she rested her arms around his neck.

“Happy New Year, Castiel,” she muttered before she stood on her toes and pressed a passionate kiss to his mouth that made them both glad for the New Year.

 


	26. At Last

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The time is finally right and the moment comes when they both make a choice.

Curled up on her bed and with her head nestled against a warm chest, Meg listened with contentment to the steady howl of the wind mingling with the bluesy rhythm drifting through the apartment. January’s snow had turned to February storms and the best place to spend it was in bed. Castiel was reading again, this time the book she had given him weeks ago and the copy was so dog-eared that it looked as if he had read it over and over thousands of times. Beneath the covers, his free hand stroked up and down her naked back in an absent caress while his steady heartbeat beneath her ear seduced her into a light doze. He murmured now and then along with the song playing and she couldn’t help but stay awake to listen. He couldn’t sing worth a damn but he had learned enough of the lyrics of her favourites that he often spoke the words alongside the music like some strange poet.

Outside the weather was remarkably stormy for February and after her Wednesday overnight shift Meg had chosen to spend her Thursday free with Castiel. Bed had just been the best option considering the cold and snow outside. He hadn’t really argued since he was too tired from his own late nights cramming in book after book on his demanding editing schedule. Though he was modest about it, he’d become a quick success with publishers and his pleasure in fixing stories hadn’t diminished with his increasing workload.

She was almost jealous of how happy he was with his work. Meg’s own stint in the teaching hospital was coming to a close. She’d kept on for a few extra weeks, long enough to bank money, but she had no intention of keeping up the charade of liking her job or staying there. When Meg had grumbled about it over breakfast at the diner, Castiel had listened sympathetically but offered no real insight. He’d simply let her complain all morning until he had taken her home and promptly seduced her into forgetting about it for a few hours.

He was remarkably good seducing her for a man who claimed to be too reserved, Meg thought. Their going steady had become even more comfortably familiar after New Years. Ignoring the whispers of the townspeople who knew them and the Winchesters’ less than subtle teasing, they still went out on the town together with the full knowledge that they were living in a type of sin compared to the other people their ages but neither cared very much. These days though when she wanted to stay in, he rarely argued and it was becoming more frequent.

After New Years, Castiel had all but moved into her apartment. Meg hadn’t even really figured it out until one day she realized his shirts were mixed in with her dresses in her tiny closet, his favourite brand of coffee was in her cupboards, and his toothbrush lay on her sink counter. Even Steve had moved on from his rampant dislike of Castiel to let him scratch his ears without being bitten. Pam hadn’t grumbled once about his constant presence and Meg found out that Castiel had slipped her extra money for rent. When she had pointed it all out, he’d merely shrugged and said it made sense to him to be prepared by keeping things at her place just in case. His rental was larger, Meg had said, but he had countered that he knew she was more comfortable if he left whenever she needed space. That he knew that being able to stay in her own apartment kept her from running from him, from _them_.

The fact that Castiel had figured her out would have been annoying if she didn’t enjoy it so much. It was clear that they had moved on from that tentative and occasionally nervous dating, to something more serious. Having never had a real boyfriend or relationship, Meg was still sure it could go wrong but Castiel hung on with surprising tenacity and refused to be intimidated by her cynicism.

The rumble of his stomach distracted her from dwelling too much on their changing relationship. “You hungry?” she asked instead, patting his belly for emphasis. He murmured something and turned a page instead. “Clarence? Hungry?”

“Not time for supper yet,” he said without looking up from his book. “Unless you had plans for cooking?”

“You know that I can scramble a hard-boiled egg and barely boil water,” she said, rubbing her toes against his calves as she felt his hand come up to tangle in her hair. “Thought you figured out I’m not gonna be a housewife here.”

“I did notice, yes,” he said as he set the book on his stomach and looked down at her. “We could go to the diner later and the movies, if you like.”

Meg closed her eyes as he massaged her shoulders. “We are not going to see _Son of Flubber_ , no matter how much you keep asking.”

“But…” he sighed. “Fine.”

“How about you reheat the coffee and I’ll go buy some food from the deli before it closes?” she asked. “We can talk about movies later. Maybe, just maybe, if you’re real good you can convince me to see it.”

The fingers on her hair slid down her shoulder to skim over her breast. “How much convincing do you need?”

“About an hour’s worth,” she said before pressing a kiss to his bare stomach and getting onto her bigger side of the bed. “Come on, Clarence. Up.”

He groaned and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, pulling on his boxers before heading to the small kitchen. Meg yawned and tugged the bed sheet high around her breasts as she tried to get enough energy to move. Steve grumbled in his sleep from his place on the chair and Meg reached out to pet him.

Castiel was muttering to himself again as he rattled around with the dishes and Meg looked over her shoulder at him. Something caught her eye in the way he moved and she turned around on the bed, crossing her legs and facing him as he dumped the old coffee out of their mugs. He still looked rumpled and half-asleep, hair on all ends and boxers slanted crooked on his hips. Meg cocked her head on the side and brought a knee up to rest her chin upon it while she watched him fill the kettle and set it with a bang on her stove. He pushed his hands through his hair, then stretched and yawned before he turned to lean against her counter.

Something stuttered within Meg that caused a sudden ache inside her that had nothing to do with desire. The fact that she liked him there, in her kitchen, in her apartment, wasn’t new. This feeling, this pressure that she was sure was coming from within her ribs and up to her heart, wasn’t even a new one but for the first time it wasn’t about to be ignored. She couldn’t shove it away and it felt like it was simply intensifying the longer she sat there, staring at him standing there so innocently. Only Meg couldn’t make herself move and she wasn’t sure she wanted to move either. The ache only worsened when she considered what she was feeling and knowing what it was going to cost her to let herself feel that way. 

Castiel turned his head to give her a puzzled look, head tilting to one side. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “Did you not want to eat?”

It was like be slapped with a wet glove.

“I’ll…yes. I’m going.” She leapt from the bed as if the still warm covers scalded her and wriggled into a pair of tight trousers and stole his knit sweater from the sofa. She had to shove the heavy sleeves up to her elbows and she knew she likely looked ridiculously outsized. But she had to get out and fast. Meg felt his curious look follow her as she grabbed money from her dresser and all but ran from the apartment to the shop across the street.

As the deli clerk packed sandwiches and chips for her, Meg tried hard to get herself under control. She was so used to having some sort of control that the realization that she didn’t know what to do bothered her and made her snappish with the overly friendly man making her food. Even when she paid she nearly threw the money at him after he corrected her change politely and with a snapping remark she left to trudge back up to her building. Faced with the three-story climb, Meg forced herself to remain calm as step by step she wondered what to do. By the time she was up into her apartment, her sudden mood swing had dissipated a little with the knowledge that this feeling really wasn’t anything new. She could just keep hiding it the way she always did.

The apartment smelt of fresh coffee and there was a warm draft that greeted her the moment she stepped through the door. Shivering, she dropped her bag on the table and tried to warm up her frozen hands within the depths of Castiel’s sweater sleeves. Castiel had dressed in his shirt and trousers once more and came towards her with a coffee cup, offering it without looking her in the eye. When she shook her head and reached up to brush her hair away from her face instead, he frowned in her direction and set the cup on the table.

“Meg? Something wrong?” he asked as he wisely retreated to stand in her kitchen.

“Fine. Just…fine.”

“Are you sure? You seem troubled.”

“Just peachy, Clarence,” she ground out between her teeth and then closed her eyes at his hurt expression. “Give me a second, okay?”

When he nodded, Meg paced a quick, small circle in the small space between her bed and sofa. She stopped, took a breath, then took a seat at the kitchen table. Suddenly she was dying for a cigarette and she didn’t often smoke these days. She made the mistake of looking at him then and it was her undoing.

Castiel had his arms crossed over his chest and was staring at her with obvious concern. “Are you okay? Did something happen?” he asked. “You seem very…”

“I’m in love with you,” Meg blurted out before she could stop herself.

To her surprise, Castiel only frowned and appeared to consider her for a long moment. His hesitation was long enough that she almost squirmed. “You don’t believe in love,” he stated. “We talked about it once, remember? Long time ago.”

She cringed. “I know what I said. I mean, love is like a unicorn, right? Never really believed in love so it shouldn’t exist for me but….”

“But?” he prodded gently.

“But I do believe in it when it comes to you,” Meg said and she waited expectantly for some sort of answer. Only Castiel didn’t say anything, merely leaned back against her counter and continued to stare at her without any change to his calm expression. His silence was unnerving. Meg pushed her hair behind an ear and bit her lower lip as she looked away from him in humiliation. “I guess I just thought you should know.”

Before he could speak, she bolted into the bathroom and closed the door with a jarring slam. Leaning back on the door, Meg banged the back of her head against the wood a few times and cursed herself with each thump. She always had been impulsive and rarely were the consequences ever good. Here was a good example and she was going to pay for it. She might love and that love might have finally boiled over and refused to be ignored, but in the end it wouldn’t matter because Castiel didn’t love her. He _couldn’t_ love her because good men like him didn’t love people like her and she should have known better than to have allowed that tiny spark of hope that he could.

The silence on the other side of the door spoke volumes.

Meg closed her eyes and groaned. “Least he can’t say I keep everything locked up,” she muttered. She gathered his sweater closer to her chest and inhaled deeply to try to calm the raging nerves that made her stomach ready to upheave. The smell of him surrounded her and rather than be comforted she felt ready to scream. Pulling the collar up to her chin, she opened her mouth and waited for the sound to come out.

The quiet knock on the door made her jump away and stare at the panelling anxiously, half expecting him to come through. But he only knocked again. “Meg?” Castiel called through. “Coffee is getting cold.”

Taking a deep breath, she smoothed her hair down, fixed her usual smirk on her lips, and opened the door to find that he was now seated on the couch. He was slouched back and staring at the ceiling. Moving slowly, she edged towards her steaming coffee cup.

“Just forget it, Clarence,” she said over her shoulder before she picked up the cup and took a long steadying sip. As her tossing stomach settled down, she glanced at him. “You know me. I don’t expect anything.”

“I know you don’t,” he said without looking at her. Meg set her cup down on the counter and headed for the bed. Maybe if she laid down and fell asleep, the past fifteen minutes would be erased from history or at least they could pretend it never happened. But before she could sit down, his hand snaked out and looped around hers. Castiel drew her toward him until they were toe to toe and she had to look down at him. He sat forward so his knees bumped hers and stared up at her, releasing her hand when she tried to pull free. “But what if I want to give you something in return?”

“If this is about making me dinner later, don’t worry, I can live tonight without,” she tried for a joke but he stood abruptly, chasing the attempted mirth from her face. Something about his expression made her for once lose her cocksure attitude. “Look, Cass…”

“I didn’t think you wanted to say you loved me. I guessed, a few times, that maybe you felt something for me but you were hiding it. I just didn’t expect you to ever say something like that the way you did.”

“Let’s not get silly about this,” she snapped. “I just said it because…”

“You wanted to?” he asked patiently and Meg glared at him.

“Look, just…just forget it. I was being stupid and ran my mouth,” she said. She turned her head away. “I’m just tired, that’s all.”

Before she could step away, Castiel caught her by the elbow and held her still, finally moving close enough that she felt his breath against her face. “Did you mean it though?” he persisted.

Meg stared at his collar stubbornly. “So what if I did?” she grumbled. “Does it even matter?”

He sighed. “It matters because it makes things much easier if I wasn’t alone in how I felt about you, about us.” When she lifted her gaze, surprised, he gave her an almost sheepish shrug. “I mean…why do you think I’ve stayed?”

“You’re lonely?” she tried and he shook his head. “You don’t need to do this to save my pride, Clarence. Remember? I have none.”

“Meg, you have the most pride of anyone I’ve known. It gets you into trouble,” he stated with a wry look. “Years ago, I don’t think either of us were ready. We didn’t know each other that well.”

“Yeah,” she said. “I get you.”

“But we know more now and after everything do you really think I’d say I love you and not mean it?”

Meg looked at him, wanting to argue but not able to. Castiel tended to be many things, secretive about his feelings maybe, but he wasn’t manipulative for the sake of being malicious. He wouldn’t know to lie to her like that.

“No,” she admitted before she sighed and glanced down, unable to take the way he was staring at her. “No, I know you wouldn’t.”

He pulled her closer until she was pressed against his chest and his arms were around her waist with his mouth touching her ear. “So trust me, Meg. Let me love you back.”

She couldn’t resist being prickly though her heart was hammering furiously in her chest. “Do I have a say in that?”

“Not really.” His hand rubbed up and down her back as if to soothe her. “It’ll be less scary if it is both of us in this together, you know.”

Her voice was muffled against his chest. “Hopefully. I was scared I was having a heart attack earlier.” This time, he actually laughed and Meg sighed as she looked up at him again. She squinted and then shrugged. “Okay. Fine. You win.”

“Oh?” Castiel asked, pushing her hair back behind her ear. He looked more amused than confused now.

“I love you. I mean you drive me crazy most days but I think you’re something else anyway, Clarence,” Meg said.

“That sounds so romantic,” he deadpanned.

“I think you knew what you were getting into with me,” she drawled.

Castiel smiled at her, a more carefree and gentle smile, and some of the darkness that always seemed to linger in his eyes seemed to disappear. “I did. It is why I love you,” he murmured before he lowered his head and kissed her.

Meg’s world spun a little with the headiness of relief, until he pulled back and stared at her again. She put her arms around his neck and brought him close to hug him tight, for once not needing to dissolve their kisses into passionate sex or sarcastic banter.

“So, what do we do now?” she asked against his neck. “This is new territory for me.”

“Nothing changes,” he said. “Except maybe…”

“Maybe what?”

“We can start enjoying what we have, instead of waiting for it to end,” he said and Meg heard the slightest bit of hope in his voice. “I think we’re owed some happiness, don’t you?”

“I’m okay with that,” she agreed.

It was a telling thing, that night, whenever their eyes met during dinner or in bed while they were falling asleep, that Castiel kept telling her that he loved her while Meg managed to whisper it back without worrying that she was losing a piece of herself that she now freely wanted to give to him.

 

#

It happened in March, the Thursday after Meg had officially quit the hospital.

Though she had wanted to leave Harrow in a brilliant blaze of glory and never look back, Castiel had been her anchor to stay. After that day in February, they’d finally gone to see his family. His mother and sister had barely reacted to their renewed relationship, Meg’s own strained conversation with Ruby had let her know that Chuck still didn’t trust either of them, but Castiel hadn’t appeared to care this time what his father thought or what there was to lose being involved with a woman with Meg’s past. The Winchesters, Castiel’s real family it seemed, had voiced their usual disapproving opinions but even Dean had stopped grumbling so much that Meg was a bad influence. Castiel had stood his ground and Meg had let him take care of things his way this time, more than happy to let him deal with his extended family.

They still tried to live separately, with him claiming it was to give her her own space, but Meg had become used to Castiel never leaving except to for work. He’d been a refuge from the hospital for weeks. Now she was free of the mind-numbing routine and she couldn’t think of how to leave him —leave _them_ _—_ behind.

Castiel had been gone for a few days, to help the Winchesters investigate a mysterious flying object that had turned out to be a Soviet plane, and he’d shown up at her apartment just after she had arrived. She had quit while burning her bridges thoroughly but not quite as brilliantly as she had hoped. When she had told him her reasons, he had simply nodded and taken her for an expensive dinner to celebrate her new freedom. Over the meal, Meg told him of an offer she received to work with a private practice until she could figure out what she wanted and he had agreed that it made sense. Castiel had let her rant and rave, and it had only been after they were walking back to her apartment, that she had realized he was very quiet even for him.

Not just quiet. He had seemed…squirrelly. Nervous of her and almost too attentive throughout their usual routine of getting ready for an evening in. When she’d finally let seduce her, he had been intense and passionate. Meg was sure she might not walk straight for a few days and as she lay on her side she smiled.

It was worth the aches if he kept loving her like that.

Castiel lay curved around her, his chest to her back and under the covers to ward off the chilly spring air creeping into her draughty apartment. His mouth occasionally brushed her neck and he shifted constantly as if struggling to get comfortable. A little annoyed that he was disturbing her sleep, Meg hummed a little to warn him he was bothering her but closed her eyes again as he reached for the coat that he had thrown to one side. He flicked it off the bed and then lay back to entangle her fingers with his own, his arm pillowing her head.

“Love you,” he murmured against her ear and Meg grinned, hearing the contentment in his voice. Castiel had mellowed recently and his blunt openness about his feelings had baffled Dean and Sam while Meg slowly grew accustomed to his now easy affection.

“Love you too,” she answered sleepily and squeezed his fingers.

He was quiet again, for such a long time that Meg thought he had fallen asleep, but eventually he stirred a little. His other hand lifted from his side and Meg opened her eyes to see his fist now resting on the bed before her. He was rigid against her now as he rose up so that he leaned over her, and eventually he opened his hand to reveal a simple gold band.

Meg stared at it in shock as the significance of the gesture sank in.

“Please?” he asked. “I think I have the right reasons now.”

He didn’t really have to ask and neither did Meg want him to. Reaching out, she took the band from him and brought it close to see it properly. She was aware of how still he had become once more but she couldn’t think of anything to say.

Without a word, she slid it on her ring finger and then leaned over her shoulder to press a kiss to his mouth. Castiel exhaled into her lips and she lay back into his arms as he embraced her tightly. As Meg twined her fingers with his so that his arm crossed her body, his thumb rubbed against the band sitting comfortably on her finger.

“So that was a yes?” he asked. “You’ll marry me?”

Meg simply smiled and closed her eyes. “Heaven and Hell couldn’t stop me, Castiel.”

 


	27. We’ll Meet Again (Epilogue)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the fall of 2003, Meg declares her own intentions.

_Harrow - Fall 2003_

It was a fine October day, crisp and beautiful with bright fiery foliage and the smell of autumn lingering in the air. The old church had long since been converted to a sizeable house and had been expanded upon until it resembled less and less of its humble beginnings. Some in town claimed it was rather morbid and strange that it overlooked a graveyard but, logically, every one in town knew that that the people who lived in the house were a little strange. For once, the old iron gate that lead to the house was wide open to the graveyard and to the white stone path that led in a winding trail around the gravestones to an old sycamore that still stood. All the storms in Kansas hadn’t destroyed the old tree and it would likely keep standing long after Harrow was in the dust.

That almost poetic thought made Castiel smile as he sat on the stone bench and he turned his weary face up to the sunshine, closing his eyes and sighing.

“Are you all right, Mr. Shurley? Did you need some time to yourself?” the young woman to his left asked. Castiel sighed and looked back out at the few cars parked outside his home. _Their_ home.

“A little.”

“We can take a break, if you like, I know these tend to be hard. We don’t have to do this today,” she said before turning off her recorder. She fixed her oversized glasses high on her nose. “Ms. Shurley said you could have me as long as you needed to record your story for the family. I thought it was going to be a veteran’s story but I guess I shouldn’t have been so presumptive.”

Castiel shifted the tiny child who was lying with her cheek on his shoulder and shook his head. “I don’t mind, Amy. I liked telling it. While it is still so fresh, you know, before everything fades.”

“Sounds like you really love her, you know. I don’t think it will ever fade,” Amy answered and she closed her notebook. “I never meant to interrupt your story, you know. You just seem very tired.”

“It has been a long week,” he agreed. “Maybe a break is best.”

“I’ll leave you three alone then,” Amy said with a smile and she reached out to squeeze his gnarled old hand. “If you need anything you have my number.”

“Thank you.”

When Amy was gone, Castiel sighed and looked across the dirt to the fresh grave marker. “I don’t think you’d like this very much, Meg. You hated the idea of funerals.”

There was no answer of course and it made his heart hurt in a way he hadn’t been ready for despite his grief. He hadn’t felt a grief like this since the Winchesters had come home from Vietnam in matching pine boxes. It had been first time he hadn’t been there to help them, to protect them, and in a gunfight they had died together. The way they likely had wanted it. That grief had dulled over the years, overcome by wistful fond memory, but now it had returned and this time it was like a sharp knife being twisted in his heart.

Now he was alone and he couldn’t cry, not really. Not when the child curled in his arms slept so peacefully and might not understand his tears.

“I did as you asked, Meg, you know. No overpriced boxes for you. Just a marker and your ashes to be scattered by the river. I thought you’d like that. The river is where everything really started,” Castiel explained to the marker.

That had hurt though. He had wanted to see his wife one last time, to know she lay close by, but in the end her wishes had won and he couldn’t go against them. After all, he knew she wasn’t really there in that husk of what she had been.

The stark reality of her being gone still hadn’t registered. That every night he would now go home to an empty bed, to her empty chair, and to an empty studio they had shared during his long editing career and her own macabre paintings and sculptures she had taken up making in the seventies. A studio that during the eighties she had decorated with Lisa Frank pictures of unicorns while not once explaining to him why, despite his annoyance at those bright drawings in his workspace. Those had been long hours spent in each other’s company over the years and even when they had blown up at one another, Castiel had enjoyed every moment. Much like her horrible attempts at cooking and his inability to keep his mother’s once prized plants alive, what they failed at had made them love each other more.

Now those moments were gone and all he had were memories. Not enough memories, he thought. He had wanted more but he knew he couldn’t have more with her.

“I miss you. Every day I miss you.” He felt the child stir a little and let her slip down his arms to lie on his lap. He patted her dark curls and saw her green eyes flutter a little as she tried to wake up. “Go back to sleep, Eden.”

She did it readily with a sleepy murmur and Castiel sighed, stroking her hair. It had been a long day, the wake of Meg Masters-Shurley, and he had escaped with his youngest grandchild for some peace and quiet. Eden was too young to understand much, only that one day her grandmother had fallen asleep and not woken up.

For a life so tumultuous, Meg’s death had been unassuming and quiet. Her heart simply gave out one night and when Castiel had woken with her in his arms to find her cool to the touch, unresponsive to his kiss, he had simply lain with her without panicking. Meg had always joked she would beat him to the finish line. He had stroked her grey-streaked dark hair, touched the face he’d come to love, and whispered that he had understood she had to leave him finally. He’d made sure she was dressed appropriately and then left to make his calls to the hospital with a calmness that belied his grief.

After that, the week had passed in a numbing blur. The obituary he had written himself, making it simple and only really saying that she had been loved by those that knew her best. People who had once looked down on Meg grieved her as a part of their town. To many who had moved to Harrow after the seventies, she had the increasing eccentric lady with a wicked sense of humour and a hard way of living that put to shame anyone twenty or thirty years younger than she. Her wild streak had been tempered by her calmer and steadier husband but that had never really stopped Meg from doing as she liked.

Castiel smiled as he stared at Meg’s grave marker. They had stood in this very spot back in the summer of ’63 and married in a quick and quiet ceremony, scandalizing most of the town that they married in a graveyard. Castiel could still see his mother and sister holding flowers while Dean had stood in as his best man with Sam at his back, ‘just in case Castiel chose to run’ Dean had joked. That had been the last time he had seen either of his friends alive, since they left for Vietnam on a mission just after the newlyweds returned from a honeymoon in South America. For all her dislike of the two men, Meg had been his support when he coped with the death of his best friends in 1969.

“I’m going to miss you every day. I’ll miss you until I finally make it there to be with you,” he told the marker. “Then you’ll probably yell at me for taking too long. I won’t mind that. As long as I get to see you again.”

“Dad?” a soft voice called out and he lifted his head to see his daughter. The beautiful woman headed towards them in a slim black dress had his blue eyes and her mother’s long wavy dark hair. Nicky released the hand of the tall man at her side and reached out to ruffle her father’s iron grey hair. “Daddy, what are you doing with little Eden?”

Castiel looked at the tiny girl cuddled up on his lap, sound asleep. “She wanted to hear the story I was telling to your assistant, Nicks. No harm done.”

Nicky gave him a wry smile that was very similar to her mother’s, causing an ache he could barely ignore. “She’s too little for that story, Dad.”

“I doubt she understood much of it, Nicks,” he answered. Castiel shrugged and let her pick up her daughter. As ever, he watched his own daughter with deep love and pride. When Meg and he had married, they had understood that due to her previous treatment from Dr. Star and her disastrous miscarriage, likely it was impossible for her to carry any child to term. He had been content with that and it had never come up again. But that night Meg had told him she was sure she was pregnant, he had never before prayed as hard as he had then that he wouldn’t lose her or their child. Bucking the tradition of Shurleys always having biblical names and the firstborns always being boys, the very small Nicola Anne had been born early, but she had been a fighter. Castiel’s life turned upside down coping with a daughter as wild as her mother and he wouldn’t trade a single moment of that life.

It was likely the reason why Will Winchester had fallen hard for her. One of Dean’s brief flings before his death had left behind a young boy who had never known his father except for stories and resentment. Castiel had strived to help raise the boy alongside Nicky when he’d been dropped on Bobby’s doorstep and the children had grown up close. Will had lost his sharp edge thanks to Meg’s no-bullshit parenting and even when the two children drifted apart they hadn’t stayed that way long. They’d fought horribly as well when they were older, but Meg had simply shook her head and said it was inevitable. Castiel hadn’t understood what she meant until the day he had caught them ‘parking’ in Dean’s old abandoned Impala. After that, he had kept a close eye on the pair for years until Will finally managed to convince Nicky to marry him and take over the city newspaper with him.

“How’s Mom?” Nicky asked, distracting Castiel.

“Quiet. For once,” Castiel joked. The wind picked up and he could have sworn she was behind him, giving him a hit for making a joke at her expense. “Is everyone gone?”

“Just about.” Nicky and Will sat beside him. “Are you going to be okay, Dad? I mean, you and Mom…”

“I have her memories,” Castiel said. Two boys were playing tag in the graveyard, tripping over markers, and Nicky sighed.

“Will? Get the monsters please.”

“I’ll grab the brats before they fall down into a shallow grave,” he grumbled. “Might be a good change. Might scare Ethan and David into behaving.”

Nicky stuck her tongue out at him and once he was headed off she snuggled close to her father. “I miss her, Daddy.”

“Me too.” Castiel sighed and stared at the marker. “Me too. But I know she’s still with me.”

Nicky reached out to hold his hand and Castiel held hers tightly as the sun touched his face once more and warmed him to his soul.

#

She saw them leave the graveyard hand in hand with the small girl and tilted her head to watch as she leaned against the sycamore. Little Eden was talking a mile a minute, wanting to know when grandma was coming back. Whatever they said must have satisfied her because soon she was running off to kick and beat up her bigger brothers.

Meg had to smile. Little sprite was like a shadow of her old self. She was going to give Nicky a hell of a time and her daughter would love it eventually.

She looked down at her youthful hands, at the gold band that sparkled on her finger, and smiled fondly. It hadn’t come off since ’63 and it wasn’t going anywhere now. Castiel was grieving, she knew, but she had no intention of abandoning him now when he still needed her in his way. Heaven could wait. She had all but told Death himself to hold his horses. She had someone she was waiting on.

“Miss you too, Clarence,” she whispered. “Sorry I had to cut out early.”

She heard footsteps behind her and looked around at the two youthful men taking a seat on the bench around the tree.

“Fancy meeting you two here,” she said dryly.

Dean shrugged. “Sam insisted we wait around to make sure Harrow was safe.”

“And Dean wanted to be sure that boy of his was okay,” Sam said, flipping his flannel collar up as if he was cold. “Told you we should have turned down the job in ‘Nam.”

“It has been thirty odd years and you still won’t let that go?” Dean demanded.

“I remember telling you that we were going to get shot and we did.”

“Excuse me for wanting to serve my country again.”

Meg rolled her eyes at their bickering. “Really. I expected a peaceful afterlife.”

“You’re hanging around as a ghost, Meg, so you don’t get peace,” Dean answered as she took a seat between them. They stared at her grave marker for a while before he reached out with a ghostly pale hand and touched hers. “Thank you, for being good to him. He deserved that.”

Meg gave him a sidelong look. “We’re not about to have a moment, are we?”

“You should be so lucky,” he said but he was flustered. “We hung around because we cared about Cass and Bobby and the others. Just watched over them.”

“Why do you think Will and Nicky got together? Dean’s a romantic,” Sam said and Dean reached around Meg to swat his shoulder.

She sighed as they continued to bicker back and forth about who had been more annoying as a ghost.

“I’m not ready to leave him yet,” she blurted out and the brothers stopped.

“Then don’t. Wait for him,” Sam said. “Years fly by, you know.”

“I know,” Meg said. She stood up with a huff and faced them. “Excuse me, boys, but I’m going to go be the guardian angel on my boy’s shoulder for a while. It’ll be a nice change for us.”

Following a salute, they blinked out to do whatever it was the Winchester ghosts did and Meg turned around to the house she’d lived in happily for years. She saw Castiel sitting on the wraparound porch by himself now, looking alone and tired. It was easy to remember how she had once slunk on that step, cold and alone and beaten, and how he had taken her in just because he was a good man. It was because of him she had tried not to disappear into that life that had claimed her parents and she was never sure if he realized what he had done for her.

Smiling to herself, Meg headed up the walkway and took a seat beside from Castiel once she reached the porch. Though she was invisible to him, he seemed to feel her there. His grey head turned and his laugh lines deepened in thought as he stared in her direction. Then he sighed and looked back out at the rose bushes she had planted years ago. Meg tried to ruffle his hair but her fingers slipped through uselessly. So she sat with him until he started to doze on his favourite bench and reaching out she ran her hands over his familiar face. Even though it hurt that he couldn’t feel her, see her, touch her, she wasn’t about to leave him alone. She leaned forward and touched her lips to his cheek, imagining she could still feel his skin beneath hers.

“You’ll see me again you know,” Meg whispered in his ear before she leaned against him like the old days and grinned as she put her head on his shoulder. “We’re going to Heaven, Clarence.”

 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Banner] All Shook Up](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12368259) by [Knowmefirst](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Knowmefirst/pseuds/Knowmefirst)




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